


The Dark Souls of Wooing Your Soulmate

by Cy_kun



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Robin (Comics)
Genre: Finger guns, I think this can stand on its own as a one shot though, I'm also not a super nerd, M/M, Soulmates, The Wooing Has Begun, This is marked as complete, and my own personal general understanding of batman canon, but more chapters are coming, but not less, eyyyyyyyy, i THINK there will be five chapters, i'm going off hazy memories of comics i read years ago, kind of like real DC writers do, maybe one or two more depending on how this goes, not marked as complete anymore, so I'm not gonna be like, soulmate dreams, this quote is taken from issue 97 of the standalone robin series in 1995, vague timeline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:34:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26414263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cy_kun/pseuds/Cy_kun
Summary: On the night a person turns 18, they share a dream with their soulmate. Jason Todd has never really put much thought into his soulmate dream, and that was before his death. Since he's come back? It hasn't even crossed his mind. Which is why, when he falls asleep in his safehouse after a night on patrol, the last thing he ever expected was to find himself standing in the Batcave across from a laughing, pajama-clad Tim Drake.
Relationships: Tim Drake/Jason Todd
Comments: 120
Kudos: 700





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> God, I love soulmate AUs. I've wanted to write one for years. This particular soulmate concept, however, is shamelessly taken from Zetal's amazing Yuri on Ice Soulmate Dreams series. If you love soulmate AUs and have even a passing interest in Yuri on Ice, I can't recommend this series enough. It's such a great, fluffy read.
> 
> Note on the underage tag: In this fic, Jason is 18 and Tim is not. There won't be any hardcore sex, but they're both teenagers, so they're gonna be at least a little thirsty. If the idea of a fictional relationship between an adult and a minor bothers you, the back button probably hasn't moved in the last few seconds.

Like a lot of kids who lived on the street, Jason Todd had little use for soulmate dreams. The way he figured it, if his soulmate was older one of two things would happen. One, they'd show up and take him out of his mom's shitty excuse for an apartment and away from her endless stream of “boyfriends” with their greedy, soulless eyes that lingered on him a little too long as they made their way to the door. His soulmate might not be rich, like the soulmates some of the more naive kids thought they'd get, but they'd care enough about Jason to do whatever they could to get him away from a life that had no future beyond the end of a needle, or the barrel of a gun, or the rough grip of a series of faceless strangers. Or two, they'd take one look at the street rat that showed up in place of the perfect soulmate they'd been dreaming about their whole lives, and wash their hands of him. Soulbonds are strong things, and fate or God or whatever usually does a decent job of matching people, but Jason has seen enough soulmate relationships go bad that he knows it's no guarantee.

If his soulmate was younger...well, that was a whole different problem. Unless they lived in Gotham, there was no way Jason could reliably get to them. And even if he could, what would he do there? Live with their parents? What if they couldn't afford another kid? What if they wouldn't believe someone like Jason could be matched with their perfect little angel? What if they believed it, and threw them both out the way that sometimes happened in the books Jason read at the local library? Jason would rather be one of the rare few with no soulmate at all then be the cause of his soulmate ending up in the same shitty situation he'd been living in his whole life.

His attitude didn't change much after being taken in by Bruce. Sure, he could take care of his soulmate better if it came to that now, but it wasn't like living with the actual fucking Batman didn't come with its own set of problems. What if his soulmate only came for him because he wanted to get closer to Bruce's money? What if it ended up being a criminal or a super villain? Dick always laughed whenever Jason would talk like that, but he and his Titians would know better than most that not all bad guys were out of their teens. Fuck, he wouldn't even be the first person in their “family” to have a questionable soulmate, if any of the rumors about Bruce were true. On the flipside, what if they couldn't deal with Jason's double life? What if they made him choose: his soulmate or Robin? Could he make that choice? What if he did, then regretted it later? Jason's future was an endless series of what ifs that sometimes kept him awake in a cold sweat when he should have been exhausted after a night of patrolling the city. Or, it was, until his future came to a screeching halt at the end of the Joker's crowbar.

After the Pit, Jason wrote soulmates off completely. No one would want him now, and he couldn't have a weak spot that obvious, not when he was taking on the Bat and the entire criminal cesspit of Gotham City at the same time. Even if he hadn't walled that part of himself off behind anger and resentment and smothering seas of green, who the fuck knew how old he was anymore anyway? He'd barely been able to keep track when he was a kid, and he knew for a fact there were several years where Catherine Todd celebrated his birthday on completely different days, even different months once or twice. Who was to say if the day they remembered the most was the actual day he was born, let alone what his age was. Maybe he was older. He wouldn't be the first skinny, malnourished street kid who looked a lot younger than he was. Maybe his birth certificate was wrong. Maybe the year or however the fuck long he was dead pushed him over eighteen. Maybe he was in the ground when he should have been having his dream. Maybe he was there when his soulmate had theirs. Maybe the Pit carved that part out of him when it pulled him apart and badly stitched him back together into the Jason Todd-shaped husk he was now. So yeah, it had been years since he gave any serious thought to his dream or his soulmate.

Which made it a pretty big fucking shock when, instead of waking up in his latest safe house with a half-healed bullet wound and a hangover from hell, he found himself in the Batcave.

“You've gotta be fucking kidding me...”

There was a soft snort to his left, where the chair in front of Bruce's big ass Batcomputer was facing away from him. Jason froze. He knew this was his dream, _everyone_ knew when they were having the dream no matter how much they were or weren't expecting it, and he was suddenly terrified the chair would turn around to reveal Bruce himself.

The boy with the messy black hair, fuzzy Star Wars pajama pants, and oversized Tony Hawk t-shirt sitting there instead was only barely a step up.

“ _Replacement_?”

Other than a slight raising of his eyebrows, Tim fucking Drake didn't react at all as he looked Jason over from head to toe.

Then he burst out laughing.

“What?” Jason scowled. When he thought Tim wasn't looking he took a discreet glance down at himself. Jeans, t-shirt, badass leather jacket, exactly what he fell asleep in; the jeans weren't even that dirty. “What the hell is so funny?”

That just set Tim off even more.

“Oh. My. God,” Tim said when he finally got himself under control. He leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head, and grinned. “Wow. You are _really_ gonna have your work cut out for you.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Convincing me I'm you're soulmate?” Tim said, spinning the chair around once. “You know there's no way I'm—flesh me, I mean—is gonna believe you when you tell me, right? Or did you forget that I'm not gonna remember any of this when I wake up?”

“I didn't forget,” Jason said, even though he kinda did. What? It's been forever since he thought about this shit. The finer points of soul dreams aren't exactly always at the front of his mind. “But why the fuck would I tell you?”

Tim's face slowly fell. “Oh.”

Jason scowled again, hating the way that one little word pierced his chest. “What do you mean 'oh'? Even if I wanted to tell you, you said it yourself. You'll never believe me.”

Tim looked even more miserable. “Even if you wanted...”

_Shit._

“You're not gonna cry, are you?”

_Real sensitive, asshole._

“I might,” Tim said softly.

“What?”

The Replacement Jason knew would have rather chewed his sarcasm off than admit Jason had gotten to him.

Tim's lips twitched into something that almost looked like amusement, if it weren't for the way his eyes shimmered wetly in the bad lighting of the cave. “You totally forgot.”

“I didn't forget anything,” Jason said. Then, “What did I forget?”

Tim shook his head. “Pretty much everything about soulmate dreams, I'm guessing. But specifically? You're not really talking to 'me', here. Not the 'me' that you'd talk to in the real Gotham City. I'm Tim's soul; the raw essence of what makes up the whole Tim Drake, without any silly brain stuff like insecurity and anxiety and the need to prove myself to get in the way of what I really feel and who I really am. If I'm sad, I'm going to show it, even if I'd rather die than cry in front of you in real life.”

“And you're sad because...?”

Tim stared at him in disbelief. “Because my soulmate doesn't want me? Wouldn't you be sad if I completely rejected you?”

“I didn't—” Jason bit himself off. Technicalities aside, rejection kind of _was_ where this was leading, right? So why the fuck did it hurt so much to think of never telling the Replacement about all this? “Are you saying you actually _want_ me as your soulmate?”

“That's exactly what I'm saying.”

Something inside Jason's chest tightened.

_Your heart, dumbass. That's your fucking heart._

“Even though I've tried to kill you? Even though I've beaten you unconscious and left your body behind for your friends to find with 'Jason Todd was here' written on the wall?”

“Okay, maybe that was a bit tacky, but...” Tim shrugged and gave him a soft little smile. “I've had a crush on you since I was ten, Jason. Bruce wasn't the only one your death nearly destroyed. I don't care what you've done to me since you came back, I'm just happy that you _came back_. And I was ecstatic that I was the one who showed up in your dream.”

“You laughed.”

“I laughed because I couldn't stop thinking about how much trouble you were going to have with flesh me. Souls live in the emotional moment, you know? If I hadn't thought about that I would have jumped out of the chair and thrown myself into your arms.” Tim's cheeks pinked. “Which probably would have been a terrible idea, considering...”

Jason winced as the tight feeling in his chest turned into a sharp pain. “What about...” He cleared his throat. “What about that eggplant girl? Aren't you dating her?”

“Steph?” Tim raised an eyebrow. “You think I'm dating _Steph_?”

“I've got, like, eight hundred surveillance photos of you two on dates so fuck me if I made an assumption or two.”

Tim laughed. “Jason, she's my _friend_. We hang out all the time because we're friends. I mean, yes, we did kiss once just because we were both still a few years away from our dreams and curious and neither of our soulmates had contacted us yet, but we both thought it was weird and uncomfortable and decided to never do it again. I spent about a month barely able to sleep worrying that my soulmate would be upset they didn't get my first kiss. I never even considered they might not want to kiss me at _all_...”

“ _Stop_ that.”

“Stop...what?”

“That guilt shit!” Jason ran his hand over his face. “Look, I'm sorry I didn't throw myself into _your_ arms or whatever you were expecting, but I'm not a soul, okay? I've got all that 'brain stuff' and it's working fucking overtime right now, so don't try to make me feel bad because I'm not 'ecstatic' that the guy Bruce _replaced me with_ is my fucking soulmate, okay?”

Tim stared at the ground. “He didn't, though.”

“What?”

“Bruce,” Tim said quietly. “He didn't replace you.”

“Fuck that shit.”

“I'm serious. I don't...I don't know what Dick or Bruce or anyone might have told you—”

“No one tells me shit, unless it's about how much of a disgrace I am and how wrong I am and, oh yeah, how I should turn myself in and let Bruce lock me up in a case next to my old costume so he can glare at me whenever he wants for ruining whatever dumb fuck idealized image he built up in his head after I died.”

“Yeah, that's sort of what I figured. About what he's told you, not any of that other BS. _That_ I'm pretty sure even you don't really believe.” Jason started to protest, but Tim cut him off with a quick smirk. “Anger and sarcasm, Jason. Remember who you're talking to. We can recognize our own.”

“Fuck off.”

Tim laughed again, but quickly sobered. “Your death hit Bruce hard. He lost his way, _really_ lost his way, after you died. The 'about one bad week away from doing exactly what you keep saying you want him to do' kind of lost his way.”

Jason was stunned. “He almost killed the Joker?”

“No...but that probably wasn't too far off, really. He got reckless with criminals. Hurt them way more than he needed to subdue them. More than once he beat someone so bad they could barely breathe and just left them in the street. Sometimes he didn't even call it in. A few times the guy probably would have died if I hadn't been there to call an ambulance.”

Jason...had no idea how to feel about that. On one hand, this _was_ exactly what he wanted. For Bruce to see that his way didn't work. On the other, it wasn't. Bruce wasn't _actually_ admitting he was wrong. From what Tim was saying, it sounded more like...like he stopped caring if he was right.

“Wait, why were you there? I can't imagine Bruce would beat people half to death in front of the new Robin no matter how messed up he was about me.”

He had no idea why Bruce would even _have_ a new Robin if that's where his head was at. It took him long enough to agree to train Jason, and that was just after Dickie ran away.

“I wasn't Robin, then. Bruce never even knew I was there.”

“The fuck you say.”

Tim grinned, this time with an edge of smug pride. “None of you ever knew I was there. I figured out who you all were when I was nine and spent the next few years following you around at night and taking pictures.”

Jason couldn't have kept from laughing if he tried.

“Holy fucking shit,” Jason wiped his eyes. “What I wouldn't give to see his fucking _face_ when you told him that.”

“Whatever you're imagining? It was better.”

“Fucking epic.”

“But getting back to my point, I had to _beg_ him to be Robin. In the end it took me, Dick, Alfred, _and_ Barbara get him to see where he was headed. To get him to see that Batman _needs_ a Robin. And even then he never really wanted me there. I was never _you_. I'm just a body in a suit that keeps him from making a choice he can never unmake. He never _replaced_ you, Jason. He never wanted to. I've spent my entire time as Robin knowing I was second best _at_ best, and I never had a problem with that.” He let out a soft laugh. “I think I would have had more of a problem than _you_ did if he ever said I was better than you. You were, without question, the best Robin. More than that...” Tim met his eyes. “More than that, you were _my_ Robin.”

_Fuck..._

That pain in his chest went from sharp and stabbing to _fucking explosion_. And fuck if Jason ever wanted to feel that kind of heat and pressure ever again.

Except...

Except this time it maybe wasn't so bad. It was different, at least. Less searing anger and burning, green tinted desire to get revenge and more just _burning_.

“Fuck babybird...”

Tim perked up. “Babybird?”

Jason cringed. “Shit.”

“Wow. You didn't just come up with that, did you?” Tim lit up like a kid who'd just been told Christmas was extended till June. “Do you call me that in your head, Jason?”

“No! Fuck off.” Jason crossed his arms and looked away, hating every single thought he just had because now his fucking _face_ was burning too. “Maybe. I dunno. Fuck you.”

Tim threw back his head, spun around in his chair, and laughed.

“Maybe this isn't so hopeless if you've already got a pet name for me.”

If Jason had heard even the smallest hint of mockery, maybe this whole thing would have went differently. But he didn't. Tim didn't sound anything but delighted, and when Jason finally forced himself to look back at his soulmate all he could see were flushed cheeks, a happy smile, and sparkling eyes.

“Fuck,” he groaned, rubbing his face. Was he seriously actually considering this? Did he _actually_ want this?

…. _maybe?_

It wasn't like he hadn't accidentally caught himself admiring the replac— _Tim,_ on occasion. The kid had the sharpest mind Jason had ever seen, Bruce _included_ , and he wasn't exactly hard on the eyes. Jason could have ended up with worse soulmates.

(Like that snappy demon brat of a kid Talia had tucked away in their desert palace back in Whereverthefuckistan. And fuck was Bruce ever going to lose his shit whenever Damian got old enough to sneak away without getting caught and showed up in Gotham.)

“If I...” Jason tried his best to ignore the way his voice cracked and cleared his throat. “If I tried this...” _Say it. Just fucking say it. If there's one time you don't need to put up a front it's right here. Real Tim will never even know you asked, just fucking do it._ “How do I know you won't break what's left of my heart?”

“I...can't promise I won't,” Tim said, sounding hesitant for the first time. Jason' heart _clenched_ and something of what he was feeling must have shown on his face because Tim quickly continued. “As much as you being my soulmate is a dream come true, I don't know how flesh Tim is going to react. I can give you some possibilities, but honestly Jason, there's a pretty good chance I'm not going to believe you until I have my own dream.”

Fuck. Jason ran his fingers through his hair. Okay, maybe this wasn't that bad of a thing. It'd give him some time to work this shit out, come to terms in his own head, wade through the sludge of his Pit ravaged soul until he could figure out how the hell to be a soulmate to someone he always thought he'd end up killing one day. Maybe, along the way, he could start getting closer to Tim naturally. A calm conversation. A team up or two. After patrol coffee. Be his friend until he had his dream and realized Jason had been subtly sweeping him off his feet the whole time.

“Okay. I can deal with that.” Jason nodded, mostly to himself. “When are you gonna have your dream? I wanna know how much time I have to woo your skinny ass.”

Tim laughed. “Well, I just turned fifteen last month so—”

“ _Three years_? I have to wait three fucking years?”

“I thought you were going to woo—”

“Not for three fucking years. Fuck that shit. You think I won't fuck this up if it takes that long? Hell no. You've got a year.”

Tim seemed confused. “I have...a year? Until...what?”

“You've got a year to have your dream. If you turn sixteen and you haven't had it, I'm not gonna be responsible for what I do.”

“Jason, you can't just _force_ a soulmate dream. Everyone has them when they're eighteen!”

“If anyone can figure it out, it'd be you.”

“I won't remember any of this!”

“Then you're gonna have a pretty fucking memorable sixteenth birthday, babybird.”

Jason wasn't gonna lie, Tim Drake at a loss for words? _Really_ fucking satisfying. Also. Kind of adorable.

Huh. Maybe he was warming up to this soulmate thing quicker than he thought.

“I have no idea what to say to that.” Tim shook his head. “I almost wish I could be there to see flesh me's face when you do...whatever it is you're planning on doing.”

“Ha! You've known me how long and you think I'm planning any of this shit? I'm winging it, babybird. Pretty appropriate for a couple of Robins, right?” They shared a small smile. “Besides, you'll be there. You'll be inside Tim, but you'll still be there. He can't exactly get rid of his soul, right?”

“You probably don't want to make any bets on what I'm capable of when properly motivated...” Tim's smile dimmed. “It'll be different, though. Flesh me and you will have a whole lifetime ahead of you, but...”

“But what?”

Tim shrugged. “This is the last time _I'll_ ever get to talk to you.”

_Well, that's fucking heartbreaking._

“Jason?”

“What?”

“Does that really bother you?”

“What do you mean?”

Tim smiled and shrugged. “You looked really, really sad for a moment there.”

Jason had to fight not to bluster and find a way to get the fuck out of this dream.

_It's okay to be honest, shithead. You literally just decided this. Don't let yourself ruin this dream more than you already have._

No matter what he told himself, there was still a part of him, mad and green, that was screaming at Jason to hit Tim, to grab him and _hurt_ him and tear him apart.

Jason Todd had never hated Talia al Ghul more than he did in that moment.

“Jason...?”

Jason closed his eyes and forced himself to count to ten. It didn't quite work, but it made him feel like he was in control long enough for him to actually _be_ in control.

_Good, now be fucking honest with your soulmate._

“Honestly? That's the saddest fucking thing I ever heard. I...” _Say it you waste of skin._ “I kind of wish I could stay here forever, now.”

Jason Todd did not deserve good things. He did not deserve a soulmate, or a second chance with Tim, or anything other than two slugs to the back of the head and an unmarked grave paid for by the county. But when Tim Drake's fucking soul smiled at him like he'd just singlehandedly breathed life into the entire concept of joy and love?

He thought that maybe, somewhere deep inside him, there was a version of himself who might.

“Jason...”

“You don't have to—”

“Jason,” Tim said fondly. “Shut up.”

He was out of the chair and before Jason could blink he had an armful of Tim.

“You're amazing,” Tim said. He paused, then squeezed Jason's bicep. “And holy crap you're built.”

A surprised laugh made its way out of Jason's throat.

“What?” Tim pulled back just enough to look at Jason with a tiny smirk. “Souls live in the moment, remember? I can go from romantic to horny in a second if I want to. Actually, since flesh me is fifteen, that's probably something we have in common.”

“Please stop talking,” Jason said. “I'd have to shoot _myself_ if this was happening in real life.”

“Is the age thing going to be an issue?”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “How many pedos have I killed?”

“A disproportionate number according to my research.”

Now both eyebrows went up. “Seriously? Your 'research'?”

“Something you're going to have to get used to about me,” Tim said. He leaned in until his lips were touching Jason's ear and whispered, “I'm a _huge_ nerd.”

Jason snorted. “Really?” he deadpanned.

“Oh yeah,” Tim said, nodding. “ _Massive_. I'm not even lying when I say about a fourth of the reason I wish you could stay here with me is so we could roll you a Pathfinder character.”

“I have literally no idea what that means.”

“Learn,” Tim said seriously. “If you want to woo flesh me without resorting to walking around naked in front of me you're gonna need some serious tabletop skills.”

And Jason, because _fuck_ if his stupid brain could be consistent about anything, said without thinking, “I've _got_ tabletop skills, babybird, you'd just need to be under me on the table for me to show 'em off.”

Tim _grinned_. “Jason Todd you _minx_. But seriously, _never_ say that to flesh me unless you want to see my face literally melt off from the heat of the blush. Because _damn_.”

Jason groaned. “Fuuuuuck me.”

“Flesh Tim's gonna want it the other way—”

“No! Stop.” Jason _ground_ his palms into his eyes. “Seriously, stop. I have no idea why I said that. I'm a fucking idiot. A gross idiot. A gross idiot _pervert—_ ”

Tim cut him off with a kiss.

Jason wasn't exactly a stranger to kissing. He'd gotten his first kiss back in Crime Alley from a street girl who was a few years older than him at the time. It wasn't anything special, just a quick press of lips as a thank you for scaring off another street kid who'd been harassing her. He never forgot how it felt, though. Not so much the kiss, though it was nice, but the way it felt to make the world a little bit safer for someone who usually had no one to rely on. For that brief moment, tiny little knobby kneed prepubescent Jason Todd had been a hundred foot tall giant in that girl's world. Her own personal Superman. He'd held that feeling tight and warm inside his chest, bringing it out on the coldest nights when the sounds of the men his mom brought back to her bedroom were too loud to block out and he had to spend the night sleeping in the streets to get away from it. Other kisses had followed, when he was older, and after he died and came back more followed. And every single one of them, no matter how much passion there was behind it, all failed to bring back the high of that first kiss.

And, to be honest, so did Tim's.

Kissing Tim, kissing Tim's _soul_ , made that first kiss feel like a limp handshake.

Jason could actually _feel_ the bond between them, both of their souls reaching out for each other—no, that wasn't quite right. They'd _been_ reaching out to each other all their lives. This was their first meeting, and as far as they were concerned, it had been too long in coming.

Jason couldn't bring himself to disagree.

It seemed like they kissed forever, but even Jason knew soulmate dreams had a time limit, so that probably wasn't the case. He wouldn't have minded if they did, though. Nothing had ever felt like this to Jason. It was like sinking into a warm blanket fresh from the dryer in the dead of winter. It was like a cold glass of Alfred's lemonade after spending a long, hot August night on patrol. It was like walking into Bruce's manor and being welcomed with smiles and hugs.

It was like coming home.

When they finally pulled apart Jason didn't want to open his eyes. He was suddenly terrified that this was just a dream—a _regular_ dream, not a soulmate dream. That if he opened his eyes it wouldn't be Tim's arms wrapped loosely around his shoulders, wouldn't be Tim's breath ghosting across his lips.

“Wow,” Tim said breathlessly.

Without meaning to, Jason opened his eyes.

Tim was _glowing_. His cheeks were flushed; his smile soft and maybe a little bit smug.

“That was amazing,” Tim said.

“Yeah.” Jason's voice cracked a bit, and Tim grinned.

“Big bad Red Hood all flustered from one kiss with me,” he said. “I wonder what the wagging tongues on the street would say about that?”

Jason cleared his throat. “They'd say, 'fuck, we should mind our own damn business before Red Hood kicks our ass to Bludhaven and back'.”

Tim threw back his head and laughed. “You are _perfect_.”

Jason grimaced. “I'm really not.”

“Yes, you are.” The amusement softened into another one of those tiny smiles. “And you know what? I'm okay with this being our only time together, now. Tim's in good hands with you, and one kiss like that is enough to live on for the rest of my life.”

Jason leaned down and rested his forehead against Tim's. “Just one?”

“Who would have thought Jason Todd would be such a temptress.” Tim let out a shaky sigh, then said more seriously, “If you kiss me again I'm going to jump you and tear off your clothes and do something that you're probably not at all ready for.”

Who knew erections could be so painful in a dream?

“Not exactly seeing the bad here, babybird.”

Tim snorted. “So you're totally okay with having sex with someone who was fourteen less than a month ago?”

Jason _cringed_. He'd actually forgotten about that part. “Well, when you put it that way...”

Hey, plus side, the erection thing was under control.

Mostly.

As if by mutual agreement, they both separated and took a step back at the same time.

“I meant what I said though,” Tim said softly. “I'm perfectly happy with my kiss.”

“Good. But fuck that one kiss thing.” Jason looked Tim right in the eyes. “When I finally get around to kissing babybird, I'll put a little extra in it for you every time, okay?”

“Fuck,” Tim whispered. His eyes began to tear, and he let out a wet little laugh as he wiped them away. “How can you think you're anything but perfect? You're _so_ perfect.”

“Well, if you say it how can it be anything but true?”

Jason didn't believe that, not for a second, but he wasn't going to ruin the time he had left with Tim's soul by being a self-loathing mood kill. If he couldn't give this Tim one night without fucking up how the hell was he going to give the other one a whole lifetime?

“You are so...” Tim trailed off, blushing. “I think I was wrong before. You won't have any problem wooing flesh Tim if you can be this smooth.”

“Yeah?”

Tim nodded. “Definitely.”

“Good.”

And it was. It was also a huge weight...not _quite_ off his shoulders, but at least shifted into a better position. He would have to make sure he remembered this, remembered the way Tim's soul told him he could do this. It was sure to help on the long series of lonely, frustrating nights he had ahead of him.

Jason could sense their conversation had reached a natural dropping off point, but his dream was still going strong and he _really_ didn't want to waste any of the time he had here with awkward silences. Besides, he didn't really know all that much about Tim in real life. This was a perfect opportunity for some great intel.

“But I'll take any advantage I can get, so why don't you explain this Pathfinder thing to me.”

Tim lit up like Jason just told him, fuck 'till June, Christmas was an all- _year_ holiday.

And that's how they spent the rest of Jason's soulmate dream; talking about nerd crap Jason wouldn't have given a fuck about a few hours ago. He found that he did care now, though. Mostly because it was important to Tim, but also a little bit because he could kind of understand the appeal of pretending to be someone else for an afternoon or eight.

At some point, after learning what “rolling a character” meant but before Tim could finish explaining why something that involved so much math could actually be fun, the cave started to fade away around them.

Tim scowled at the disintegrating reality.

“Oh come on! I've barely scratched the surface!”

“Looks like I'll have to get the rest from flesh you, babybird.”

Tim's scowl melted into a cackle. “I could say so many things right now.”

“You could,” Jason agreed. “But you're starting to fade too. Guess I'm about to wake up.”

He did his best to keep his voice light. The last thing he wanted was to make this sad right at the very end. Tim gave him a sharp look.

“Okay,” Tim said. “So, there are a million things I want to say before this happens, but I only have time for maybe two, so please, even though it goes against your nature, let me have the last word, okay?”

Jason nodded. Tim smiled.

“Great! So, first? I'm so sorry for everything flesh me is about to put you through. No! Don't say anything. It's going to suck. And I'm probably going to say some hurtful things once you start getting too close. Just, please try to remember that you don't deserve that from me. What you deserve are good things. You deserve to be happy and know that you're wanted. God Jason, you are _so_ wanted. I've been in love with you since I was a kid and when I finally realize that this is real I'm going to spend the rest of our lives making you the happiest person in the _universe_. Please try to remember that when I'm an asshole back in the real world, okay?”

Even if Tim hadn't told him to be quiet, there was no way Jason could have spoken around the lump in his throat.

“Okay, good.” Tim said. The fading had reached his chest now, and Jason could feel the springs from the bare mattress he was sleeping on in the real world digging into his side. Their time was almost up. “Second thing...” Tim's lips twitched. “I've wanted to do this in my dream since I was six.”

He leaned back, floating in the nothingness that had once been the cave, and said in a croaking voice, “There is...another...Sky...walk...er...”

Then he closed his eyes and faded away.

Jason woke up in his safe house with a small, disbelieving smile on his lips.

“You fucking nerd,” he muttered.

Then, he buried his face in his pillow and grinned.

_My fucking nerd._


	2. Chapter 2

Timothy Jackson Drake's ability to deal with the strange and confusing was somewhat higher than most people's. He was proud of that, actually. With how much of a human disaster he could be in most (read: all) social situations, it was a relief that he could deal with everything from alien invasions to reanimated homicidal rage zombies he used to have a crush on coming back from the dead intent on killing him with a mostly level head. It was a trade off, sure, but since aliens and zombies could actually kill him, and social embarrassment could only make Tim _wish_ he was dead, it was one he was happy with. So yeah, Tim could deal with pretty much any weird and unusual situation under the sun, as long as he was in costume and there was a high probability said situation was out to kill him.

What he could not deal with was the Red Hood standing in front of him holding out a cup of steaming, heavenly smelling liquid bean ambrosia and shuffling in place like a 12 year old about to ask his first girl out to the after school dance.

“No.”

Red Hood tilted his stupid(ly sexy, how the hell does a faceless fire engine red mask actually work for him?) helmet. “I didn't even say anything yet.”

“I don't care. No. I don't. _No._ ”

“Don't you even wanna know why I'm here?”

“I know why you're here. Body language is a _thing_ , Hood, but if you think I'm stupid enough to accept anything you want me to put in my mouth then you're even crazier than I thought.”

Tim didn't even need x-ray vision to know Hood was probably smirking. Tim felt his cheeks begin to burn.

_Why did I say it like that? I could have literally said that any other way. Now I'm blushing like a girl in front of Red Hood. Stupid exposed Robin costume. I can't believe I thought I solved all its issues by insisting on actual pants. The next time B lets me redesign it, I'm adding a cowl._

“It's not poisoned, or anything.”

Was that Tim's imagination or did he sound just the slightest bit insulted?

“That's _exactly_ what you'd say if it _was_ poisoned.”

“It's also exactly what I'd say if it wasn't.” Hood was rolling his eyes now. Tim knew. He could _sense it_. “Look, I'll take a sip first, okay?”

He reached up to his helmet, presumably to take it off. Tim made a choked cat noise.

The only thing worse than drinking poisoned coffee was drinking coffee after _Jason Todd's_ lips had touched it. Terms like 'indirect kiss' and 'cooties' began bouncing around in his head like Bart after a case of Zesti.

The choked cat noise got louder.

Then, the helmet was off and Red Hood's—no, Jason Todd's stupid, _sexy_ face was on full display. His hair wasn't even sweaty. How was he real?

“See?” Jason took a sip. “No poison.”

_See? Of course I see. I see your freaking_ dimples _that's what I see._

Tim shook his head. “I don't care, there's no way I'm drinking that.”

“Why not? It's really good. The barista at that coffee shop you like off 82nd said it was their most popular blend.”

“How—what—no! How do you know what coffee shops I like? Are you _stalking_ me?”

Jason raised an eyebrow. Tim pinched the bridge of his nose. “Right. You're stalking all of us. How else are you going to enact your evil plots?”

“ _Survailing_ , Timbo. And the only plot I've got going on right now is offering you this coffee.” Jason ran his fingers through his hair. It was a direct hit. Tim's shields were at 70%. “Think of it as a peace offering.”

If Tim actually was a cat, instead of a teenage boy who occasionally made noises that sounded like a dying one, he would have reared back and hissed. Every one of his danger senses were on high alert. This was a trap. It had to be. Tim never actually got the things he wanted.

“ _Liar_. You are a lying liar who's _lying_.”

“I'm _not_ lying,” Jason said, frustration slipping into his voice.

“Ha!” Tim pointed at him. “I see the cracks in your lies, _liar_.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“It doesn't matter.” Tim crossed his arms and looked away. It was hard to do, for many reasons; only one of which had anything to do with Tim's usual reluctance to turn his back on his enemy, and more than he cared to count had to do with how pleasant Jason's face was to look at. _Evil should not be so cute._ “I am on a rooftop. Batman put me here and told me to keep watch on a building. Nowhere in Batman's orders was there anything about accepting poisoned—”

“It's _not_ poisoned!”

“—potentially poisoned coffee from criminals.” Tim pulled his cape tightly around himself and did his best to pretend it was to ward off the nonexistent August chill and not the security blanket it really was. “And even if there was, I'm not putting my lips on anything your disgusting mouth has touched.”

Tim was glad Jason had been as persistent as he was in offering Tim the coffee. Not because he secretly wanted to accept (He did. Oh _God_ did he. And not just because it really did smell amazing) but because they had been talking long enough that, when Jason threw the entire cup in his face, it had cooled enough to only burn off one layer of skin.

“Ow! What the— _fuck?!”_

“ _Fuck. You._ ” Jason's voice was as cold as Tim had ever heard it. Colder than it had been the first time they fought. Colder than it had been when Jason beat Tim nearly to death and left him bleeding in Titans Tower.

And then he was gone.

Tim stared at the empty space where he'd been, but he didn't really see it. No, all Tim could see was the afterimage of Jason's face just before he left, and the look etched upon it that seemed, for all the world, to be something like heartbreak.

Tim licked the slowly cooling coffee off his burned lips.

_Wow. This tastes really good._

He wondered if this still counted as an indirect kiss.

* * *

“So, I think we probably got off on the wrong foot.”

Tim stared at Jason in what could, charitably, be called disbelief. Charitably, because not even Dick could mangle the English language enough to invent a word that meant “disbelief, but times a million”. The charity was not exploding at the sheer understatement and just letting it fly by without comment.

“I. I think. Yes. But,” Tim said, when it became apparent that his secluded rooftop was not going to be either secluded or his again any time soon. “Also.”

“You know that an adverb and a preposition isn't a complete sentence, right?”

“Shut up. _Also._ I think we went right past feet and got off on the wrong _planet_. That planet being Earth, because this conversation is making me feel like I'm from Mars.”

Jason snorted. “Does that mean I'm from Venus?”

“I literally have no idea what that means.”

Jason sighed. “Right. So, look. I really do think we got off to a bad start. And okay, I'm willing to take most of the blame for that.”

“ _Most_?”

“Hey, I'm fucking trying here, okay? This shit isn't easy for me.”

“Try—what— _trying_? What are you trying? Because whatever it is? _Isn't working._ ”

“I'm _trying_ to apologize, you fucking asshole.”

Tim blinked. “Apologize?”

“Yes!”

“For _what_?”

Jason threw his hands up in exasperation. “Do I need to make a fucking list, or can I just say 'everything'?”

“I...?” Tim had no idea what was going on. But he was starting to suspect this might not be an hallucination brought on by Alfred secretly switching all the coffee in the manor to decaf again. “A list?”

“Fucking—really?” Jason took a breath so deep Tim could actually hear it echo behind the helmet. “You know what? Fine. Are you gonna give me shit if it's typed or do I need to write this shit out by hand?”

“No, I didn't mean—” Tim shook his head. “What the hell is going on?”

“I told you! I'm trying to apologize! And apparently I have no fucking idea how to do that right either. Fuck, ba— _Timmy_. What am I doing wrong? I didn't even try to bring you coffee this time.”

“I could have used coffee this time,” Tim muttered.

“Jesus Christ.” Jason went to, Tim assumed, pinch the bridge of his nose, but forgot he had the helmet on and bonked himself in the head. It was the cutest thing Tim had ever seen. “I fucking _hate_ karma. The Buddha is a fucking _asshole_.”

“You know, the concept of karma actually predates Buddhism by—”

“The _Buddha_ ,” Jason said threateningly. “Is a _fuck_ ing. _Asshole_.”

“O...kay...?”

Jason nodded. “I'm glad we had this talk.”

“But...we didn't talk about anything?

Jason jumped over the side of the roof and grappled away. Tim stared after him.

“Did you just _Tuxedo Mask_ me?”

* * *

Tim's phone was ringing.

Which was weird, even though that's kind of what phones were made for, at least back in the days before text messaging and 4G internet. And that was kind of the point. Tim's phone never _rang_. It beeped, or vibrated, or sometimes got crushed when he acted like an uncultured pleb and put it in his back pocket and inevitably sat on it, but it never _rang_.

Tim's social anxiety and morbid curiosity waged a short but bloody battle. His morbid curiosity won.

“Hello?” he said after accepting the call. “Um. Tim Drake, here.”

“ _I know who you are, Timbo_.”

“Jason?!”

There was a short pause. “ _That depends. Are you gonna keep yelling at me?_ ”

“That depends,” Tim said. “Are you gonna keep being weird?”

“ _How. How am I being weird now? Please._ Please _tell me how I'm being weird.”_

“You—”

“ _All I did was call you!”_

“Exactly! It's 20XX, nobody calls anyone anymore!”

“ _Did you just censor the da—”_

“What the hell is going on, Jason? You've been acting really, _really_ weird these past few weeks. Did you get brain damage? Replaced by a tulpa? Is this an alternate universe version of you trapped in a reality that's a dark mirror of your own and trying to make the best of it? Oh my god, Jason...is _my reality_ the _mirror universe_?”

“ _Oh for fuck's sake, there isn't any 'mirror universe'. If there was one of us would have a goatee, and even for a group of people who willingly associated with a guy wearing a mullet and a sparkly disco suit, that would be going too far. And I can't fucking believe I actually know enough about this shit to make that reference,_ ” Jason muttered. Then, louder, “ _All I'm doing, all I've been_ trying _to do, is be_ nice.”

Tim's brain actually shut down for a few seconds. When it came back online, what he said was, “You've been doing kind of a bad job then?” Jason made a decent attempt at Tim's strangled cat noise, and Tim rushed to clarify. “I mean, every time we've talked you've kinda...”

“ _Gotten pissed at you?_ ” Well. At least he didn't sound like a cat anymore. “ _Dunno if you know this, Timbo, but you're at least three different triggers for me. Only Bruce and the fucking Joker can make me lose my shit more than you. And, on top of that, talking to you like a normal person is like pulling teeth from a tree. But maybe I'd hoped you'd notice the part where I_ don't _kick your ass or try to kill you when you piss me off._ ”

Tim grimaced. He knew he set Jason off, but having it laid out like that still sucked. The part of him that had never really gotten over his childhood crush/hero worship of the second Robin wanted to cry.

The rest of him just wanted to know what the hell was going on.

“I do. I did, I mean. I...guess that's where I'm confused? Not that I miss the ass kickings and attempted murders, but I don't get why that changed? I didn't do anything different, that I can remember.” Tim had obsessively gone over everything he'd done or said around Jason for the past few months after their second weird meeting on the roof, trying to figure out what he could have possibly done to get Jason to change his attitude towards him so much. The only pattern of behavior he'd broken around Jason recently was when he'd started singing along when Dick blasted 80s pop over all their comms on their rare, forced-by-circumstance team ups. And he was 86% sure that made Jason want to kill him _more_. “What's happening, here? _Why_ are you trying to be nice to me. Why _now_?”

Through the phone, he heard Jason take a long, deep breath that ended up sounding more like a sigh. “ _That's the fucking question, isn't it. Look, it's not anything_ you _did, okay? Maybe it's too fucking hard to be mad at you all the time. Maybe I don't really like who I am around you. If it helps, don't think of it as me being nice to you, think of it as me testing out a new self-help technique.”_

Tim was surprised. Not only at what Jason had said, though there was definitely an element of that, but that it actually worked. If there was one thing Tim knew, it was research and experimentation and repeatable results. Looking at Jason's recent behavior through that lens made it easier to frame his actions as something that made sense.

“Okay,” Tim said. “I can do that.”

“ _Great. So, does that mean you're gonna stop being all..._ ” Jason couldn't find the word, but Tim had been Tim long enough to understand exactly what this kind of hesitation meant when applied to him. “ _You know, the next time I talk to you?_ ”

Tim gave his answer some thought. He'd be lying if he said being in close proximity to Jason without having to fear for his life wasn't one of his biggest fantasies. Crush and/or hero worship aside, there were so many things Tim had always wanted to ask him. It was embarrassing to admit, but Younger!Tim had played thousands of conversations with an imaginary Jason out in his head, and he was curious to see how well the Jason in his head matched up with who Jason Todd really was when he wasn't being a Tim-killing jerk.

Also, helping Jason keep his anger in check might help in lowering the per capita homicide rate in Gotham. Not even Bruce could find a problem with that.

“Yeah,” Tim said. “I can do that.”

“ _Awesome._ ”

Jason hung up.

Tim stared at his phone in disbelief. “Okay, I guess small steps are—”

There was a loud knock on the window of Tim's room, and he dropped his phone in surprise. Spinning around, he half fell into a defensive crouch before he registered that it was _Jason_ hanging outside his window.

“What?”

“Hey, Timmers,” Jason said, his voice slightly muffled by the pane of glass they were speaking through. “Wanna get some coffee?”

There were many unexplainable things in Tim's life. Bizarre occurrences that, like the Great Old Ones peeking at humanity through the veil of ages, could cause the unprepared to lose their sanity. This was definitely one of those things.

It was a good thing for Jason that Tim hadn't been sane in years.

“Sure,” he said. “Let me get my coat.”

Jason smiled.

* * *

The coffee shop Jason brought him to was a tiny hole in the wall about three blocks from Tim's apartment called Bean Soup. Outside the front door was one of those aggressively quirky placards that usually get about 2,000 notes on tumblr, this one featuring a four-panel mini comic drawn in chalk about two coffee beans going on a date to a human shop that ended with a pun he didn't understand. Inside, the only employee in sight was a stocky, surly looking man covered in hair who was, at most, five feet tall and glared at them as they made their way to a nearby table like they were personally responsible for every hardship he'd ever faced. When they sat down, he snorted and went back to polishing the counter like a barkeep at an old timey speakeasy.

Tim fell in love with the place immediately.

The coffee shop was only about half full, and to Tim's surprise there was a very eclectic mix of clientele; from the usual college kids you get at any place that sells coffee, to men and women in business suits, to two guys and a girl wearing literal tin foil hats, to a blind man who kept slipping cookies to his service dog. Tim absorbed the ambiance as he followed Jason—in civvies now, which Tim was trying to ignore because, tight t shirt plus leather jacket and fitted jeans equals _guh—_ to a small table in the corner.

It wasn't until they sat down that Tim noticed Jason was smirking.

“What?”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Jason grinned. “You really get off on this hipster shit, don't you?”

“If you brought me here to make fun of me—”

“No! I didn't—ugh.” Jason roughly ran his fingers through his hair. “Sorry. I'm not good at this whole...”

“You're not good at getting coffee?”

“I'm not good at being a friend.”

Tim's whole...everything, kind of, sort of...hiccuped.

“You want to be my friend?”

Jason winced, and while Tim was glad he somehow managed to keep the pathetic longing that was swelling up in his chest out of his question, he felt bad it had come out as skeptical as it did.

“We can work up to it, if you want,” Jason said with a shrug. He was trying to act unconcerned, but for maybe the first time since they'd met as Red Hood and Robin, Tim could see right through him.

_He really wants this. I can't even. Is this real life? Is this just fantasy? Caught in a—no, don't get distracted. What. Is. Going. On._

By any metric, this whole... _thing_ was absolutely crazy and probably unhealthy too. Surely, this night couldn't end in anything but disaster.

_Well. It's a good thing I pretty much signed up for a crazy disaster when I said yes to coffee._

“Okay.” Tim nodded to himself. “Okay. I think I can deal with that. What do you want?”

Jason frowned. “I just told you. I wanna be—”

“To _drink,_ ” Tim said. “What do you want to drink?”

“Oh.” Jason's cheeks were a little red, now. Was he getting warm? Could Tim possibly suggest taking off that leather jacket without a gallon of blood gushing out of his nose? _Probably not._ “A cappuccino?”

Tim hid his grimace. _That's...not as bad as I was expecting. It could be worse. He could have said a frappe. I can. I can work with this._

“What about you?”

“Black. Coffee.” Tim said firmly.

Jason tilted his head. “That's it?”

“Yes.”

“Huh.”

“Huh what?”

“Nothing, I just...” Jason chuckled. “I kinda always thought you were more of a macchiato type.”

Tim gagged. “Oh my god, _no_. My coffee needs to be black. Black like dark bottom of the pit I'll throw you in if you put so much as a drop of sweetener in my plain black coffee.” He frowned as something occurred to him. “Wait, was that coffee you brought me on patrol a _macchiato_?”

“No...”

“ _Jason_.”

“I swear. But...it _was_ a vanilla blend. And I _might_ have put some milk in it.”

“Oh. Oh my God. Oh my _God_. Jason! You _threw_ that in my _face_. I _licked it up_ after you left!”

“Holy shit.”

“How did I not _notice_?”

“Oh my God.”

“No!” Tim jabbed a finger at him. “ _No_. You do _not_ get to laugh at me.”

To Jason's credit, he did a pretty good job of keeping his mouth shut. It wasn't enough. Tim could _see_ the laughter dancing in his eyes. It made them _sparkle_.

“Ugh. Forget it. I'll get our drinks.”

“No, wait,” Jason said before Tim could do more than brace his hands on the table. “Let me get them.”

“What? No, don't—”

“Back in a sec!”

Tim tried to protest again, but Jason was much faster at getting out of his seat than Tim had been. With a quick grin he hopped over to the counter, leaned against it like a casual sex god from the golden age of Hollywood, and began speaking to the suddenly very flustered female barista who had replaced the surly hairy man at some point.

_Surreal. This is so very surreal. Surreal, surreal, surreal, surreal, surreal, surreal, surr—_

“Here you go.” Jason placed a mug of piping hot black coffee directly in front of Tim.

“Surreal.”

“Huh?”

“N-nothing!”

Jason gave him an odd look, but thankfully seemed willing to ignore it. He sat down and took a sip of his sugary hell beverage.

“Mmm. This is good.”

“I can't believe you can drink that.”

“Why?” He took a big, hearty gulp. “This shit tastes great.”

Tim shook his head, cradling his plain black coffee protectively in front of him and breathing in its wonderful, bitter aroma. “You have no taste.”

Jason smirked. “If you think this is bad, you should see what Dickie puts on his pizza.”

Tim stared at Jason with the wide, traumatized gaze of a boy who has seen the worst atrocities man can commit against himself. “It happened to you, too?”

“Fuck yeah.” Jason shuddered. “The only good thing that came out of my death was that I didn't have to suffer through that shit for like two years.”

“- _glurk!-_ ”

“Did you just...choke? On nothing?”

“Sh—” Tim hacked for a bit until he could breathe again. “Shut up. You can't just...” He cleared his throat. “I didn't expect you to joke about it. Not Dick, but. Your, uh...”

“My death,” Jason said bluntly.

Tim grimaced. “Yeah.”

Jason snorted. “Who's joking? The things Dick does to pizza should be considered a war crime by the UN. Even during the worst of the Pit madness I couldn't look at fudge or Lucky Charms without wanting to kill literally everyone in the room with me.” Jason paused. “Actually, that might have been mostly the Pit madness.”

Despite the horrible subject matter, Tim laughed. He immediately clamped his hands over his mouth, his eyes wide, his body primed to leap out of the way of Jason's attack...

But Jason didn't attack. Not unless Tim wanted to count a raised eyebrow and an exasperated sigh an attack, and if he did that then he'd have to consider 80% of his interactions with other people attacks too.

“Alright,” Jason said. His voice was quiet, but not subdued. “Let's get it out of the way.”

“Jason...”

Jason looked Tim dead in the eyes. “I died. The Joker beat me half to death with a crowbar and then blew the bits he left behind right to hell. I clawed my way out of my grave and wandered the city for who the fuck knows how long before Talia fucking al Ghul found me and threw my zombie ass into the nearest Lazarus Pit. I came out of it pissed and crazy and I tried to kill you and everyone I used to care about a bunch of fucking times. I've killed people, Timmy. _Lots_ of people. And sometimes I've enjoyed it a little too much. Almost as much as...” For the first time, Jason faltered. Tim could actually see him steeling his nerves for whatever he was going to say next. Part of him wanted, desperately, to tell Jason to stop. But before he could decide either way, Jason was already going on. “Almost as much as I enjoyed beating the shit out of you.”

Tim flinched.

“Yeah. I'm a fucking mess, Timmy.” He took a deep breath. “But...I'm trying to be better. I'm trying as hard as I can to put all that shit behind me and move the fuck on. And the first part of that is I gotta try making things right with you. Bruce can go fuck himself. Dickie...there's history there, but eventually...yeah, maybe. But you? You're the only one I've fucked up with that didn't deserve any of the shit I put you through. That's all on me, and the Pit, and I know that isn't an excuse but I'm still using it as one because...” He let out a short, bitter laugh. “Because if I don't, then I'm just a piece of shit who gets off on beating up fourteen year old kids.

“And I don't want to be that kind of guy, Timmy. I really fucking don't.”

“You're not,” Tim said softly.

Jason completely ignored him. “I'm not gonna ask you to forgive me. Not yet. But someday I'm hoping we can get to a place where I can. I'm hoping that I can just be...better. But if we're ever gonna get there, then you can't walk on eggshells around me. It's like fucking immersion therapy, or whatever the fuck it's called. I've gotta talk about the shit that sets me off. Desensitize myself to it, or some shit. So, you can laugh at my stupid 'Jason died' jokes all you want. Fuck, make some yourself. I don't give a shit. But don't treat me like I'm some kind of rabid animal, okay? Even if you don't believe me right now, I promise I'm not gonna attack you. Not unless you're, like, about to kick a puppy or push a kid in front of a bus or something.”

“I don't think I'd ever be able to do that.”

“I know!” Jason let out a frustrated growl. “That's what I meant. It was like, hyperbole. I know you wouldn't kick dogs or—”

“No,” Tim interrupted. “Not that. I mean...I don't think I'd ever be able to make jokes about you dying.”

Jason scowled. “Well, why the fuck not?”

“Because your death isn't funny to me!” Tim gripped his mug so hard it was a miracle it didn't shatter. “It...after you...it was one of the worst periods in my life.”

He stared down into his coffee unable to meet Jason's eyes. It felt like all the complicated feelings Jason inspired in Tim, the whole cobbled together mess of crush-fear-resentment-need-longing, were close to bubbling through his skin. If he looked at Jason, he had no doubt that Jason would be able to see more of Tim than either of them could bear.

“What are you talking about?” Jason asked. He sounded confused, but nowhere in his question could Tim hear the mocking disbelief he'd been expecting. “You didn't even know me back then.”

Tim took a deep, shaky breath.

_Okay. Okay. This is probably the wrong time for this, and I'm probably about to drive Jason away forever...but if it has to happen, it might as well be now. I can handle it now. If Jason's serious about everything, and I put this off...I don't think I could survive losing a Jason who called me his friend._

“Do you know how I became Robin?”

“Yeah?” Tim heard Jason shifting in his seat. “You used to follow us around taking pictures like a tiny stalker and after I died Bruce started going all Huntress on bad guys and you... Huh. Actually I don't know what you did after that. But I know you became Robin and Bruce turned back into the upright pillar of self-righteousness we all know and love to hate.”

Tim's head shot up.

_Jason knows?!_

“What? How? Who told you...?”

Jason rubbed the back of his head. “Uh, yeah. I only figured it out recently, though. I...overheard some stuff and did some research and...yeah.”

_Overheard stuff and did research??_ Tim shook his head. No, that wasn't what mattered right now. What mattered was...

“Is _that_ why you're being so nice to me?” Tim asked. “Because you found out Bruce didn't really replace you?”

Even as he asked, he knew it made little sense. Wouldn't he be trying to reconcile with _Bruce_ in that case?

“Wait...is all this because you want to make up with Bruce? Like, if he sees you treating me like I'm _not_ something you scraped off your shoe he'll be more inclined to give you your old room back?”

And, oh did Tim know he was playing with fire here, mentioning the _shrine_ that was Jason Todd's old room at the manor. But Tim was feeling hurt, and slightly used, and more than slightly stupid for getting his hopes up about Jason once again.

Which was why Jason's reaction pulled the rug out from under him as hard as it did.

“What? _Fuck_ no! What the hell Timmy? Why the _fuck_ would I want to make up with that asshole? If anything, I'd have made nice with _him_ so _you'd_ be 'more inclined' to give me the fucking time of day.”

Tim blinked. “Huh?”

Jason let out a loud sigh. “Forget it. Just...nothing I'm doing with you is about _Bruce_ , okay? Can you at least believe that much?”

Every nosy detective instinct Tim had was begging him to pry as deeply as he could, but he managed to make himself nod. And he wasn't lying, either. Despite every reason in the world not to...he believed Jason.

“Okay.”

“Good,” Jason said, sounding relieved. “So what does you becoming Robin have to do with freaking about me making dead Jason jokes?”

Through a supreme effort of will, Tim kept his face impassive. “I...okay, can I preface this by saying I know _exactly_ how this is going to sound and you have every right to think I'm a weird creep?”

“I mean, you just did...” Jason's smirk faded at Tim's lack of response. “Uh. Yeah, sure.”

“Okay.” Tim took a breath. “So, I kind of watched you guys for a long time. Dick and Bruce, at first. Then, later, you and Bruce. And then...and then, even though Bruce was there too...”

_Just say it._

“I kind of mostly went out to watch you.” Jason began to open his mouth, but Tim barreled right over anything he might have said. “Dick was Dick and Bruce was Bruce but you were...you were _you_. I got to see you be Robin pretty much right from the start. I saw how you evolved and got better and became...Jason, you were _glorious._ And even though our upbringings were different, I related to you so much as a kid.”

“Because I was Robin?”

“No!” Tim's face twisted up in distress. “Because you went from this kid whose parents didn't care about him to someone with a family who _loved_ him. You came from one of the worst situations imaginable and you came out the other side this amazing boy who dedicated his life to _helping_ people. You were everything I wished I could be. You were...my hero. And even though I never really knew you, or spoke to you, when you died...it was like a part of me died, too.”

The moment the words were out, Tim felt the blood drain from his face.

_Oh my God. Oh my God. I can't believe I said that out loud. What the hell is wrong with me?_

He began breathing rapidly.

_At least you didn't tell him you fell in love with him while you were stalking him?_

Tim squeezed his eyes shut.

“You've loved me since you were 11...”

Tim's eyes shot open.

That...

No. There was no way Tim heard that correctly.

“Jason...?”

Jason shook his head and refocused on Tim, his cheeks coloring slightly. “What?”

Tim swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat. “What did you just say?”

“I didn't say anything.”

Tim very much wanted to believe that. Heck, it wouldn't be the first time he imagined someone said something to him when, in reality, they hadn't said anything (and depending on his level of coffee withdrawal, might not even be in the room with him). But if Jason truly hadn't said what Tim thought he heard...

“Then why aren't you looking at me?”

Jason scowled, then very obviously forced himself to meet Tim's eyes. “Maybe because you said a bunch of embarrassing stuff and I'm feeling a little flustered?”

“Oh.” Tim felt his own cheeks heat up. “Right. Yeah. I...did.”

_No wonder I'm hallucinating. I'm literally about to die of embarrassment. Good to know._

“Shit. No. I didn't...” Jason sighed and rubbed his face. Tim could hear the soft sand-papery scrape as his skin dragged across the nearly invisible stubble dotting his jaw. “It's not a bad thing, Timmy. I...might have already known. How important I was to you as Robin, I mean. But I forgot. Anyway, my point is it didn't change anything between us before, and it won't now, okay? You don't need to be embarrassed or ashamed, or whatever.”

“You _knew_?”

“Yeah...?”

“Oh God.” Tim buried his face in his hands. “That's so embarrassing.”

“Nah. I thought it was kinda cute, actually.”

Tim hesitantly peeked through his fingers. Instead of the mocking smirk he'd been expecting, Jason's entire face seemed...soft, for lack of a better word. He wasn't quite smiling, but Tim swore he could see one anyway, like a faint phantom shadow of contentment.

He hadn't seen Jason look so much like Tim's Robin since before he died.

“Oh...”

“Yeah.” Jason chuckled. “So, don't be embarrassed, okay? You looked up to me when I was younger, and I think you're a pretty cool guy now. We're just two dudes out drinking coffee in the middle of the night on our day off. Doesn't need to be any weirder or more stressful than that, right?”

For once, all of Tim's social anxiety seemed content to fade into the background. The worst scenario had happened. Jason knew that Tim was a weird little stalker who followed him around and build up an imaginary connection between them in his lonely little boy head. And, somehow, Jason was _completely okay_ with it.

“Yeah,” Tim said. “Yeah, that...sounds amazing, actually.”

Jason grinned. “Great!”

And just like that, Tim and Jason were nothing more than two guys getting coffee and chatting about nothing in particular.

It was every bit as wonderful as Tim had imagined.


	3. Chapter 3

Over the next few months, the patterns of Tim's life continued. He flowed from dutiful son, to harried high school student, to focused vigilante. He spent time with his friends, tried to repair his relationship with his father, and looked after Bruce with a wary eye. Some days, the only thing keeping him from collapsing was the glorious invention of 24 hour diners, with their always ready and always piping hot selection of only the most mediocre cost-efficient coffee.

And then there was Jason.

Jason, who was, more often than not these days, the one who brought him his coffee, showing up during a lull in patrol or after a stressful day at school.

Jason, who sometimes picked Tim up after school on his motorcycle, spare helmet in hand, sparking rumor after rumor that secretly delighted and amused Tim every time he heard them whispered in the halls.

Jason, who had actually met Tim's friends, and had somehow managed to slide into their group like he'd always belonged.

Jason, who knew firsthand what it was like dealing with a dysfunctional parent, and who was always willing to listen when Tim needed to vent to someone who wouldn't immediately start offering unwanted advice.

Jason, who was very quickly becoming a vital part of Tim's life.

_When did this happen?_ Tim thought as he and Jason shared a rooftop pizza after teaming up to take down a small time meth ring.

_Why did Jason decide to be my friend?_ Tim pondered as they sat in the far corner of Tim's favorite coffee house, Jason reading a careworn copy of _The Count of Monte Cristo_ and Tim finishing up his homework on his civilian laptop.

_How did I get so lucky?_ Tim can't help but wonder as Jason rolls his first Pathfinder character in Tim's room. Tim helped him come up with the backstory, and unlike Bart, Jason doesn't insist on ignoring the lore and actually _listened_ to Tim's suggestions and input.

When Jason wasn't with Tim, Tim's thoughts were firmly fixed on when he would show up again. When Jason was with him, Tim found himself searching for any excuse he could to extend their time together.

When the small cold Tim had been fighting for a week and a half turned into pneumonia, Jason was the only one he wanted by his bedside.

“Okay, so I got three different flavors of Halls, Tylenol, NyQuil, and Al's famous chicken soup. Your antibiotic IV is topped up, and Dickhead is covering your patrol route again.” Jason sat on the edge of the bed in Tim's room; his _actual_ room, in the house he shared with his dad, because there was no way he could hide how sick he was from Jack Drake. Not these days, at least. “As funny as it would be to feed you all that shitty medicine and then make you eat the soup, Dr Jason is gonna recommend you eat first, or it'll taste like boiled ass.”

“Dr Jason is mean,” Tim whined, making grabby hands towards the bowl in Jason's lap. “Stop talking and gimme soup.”

“God, I wish I was recording this.” Jason's soft smile belied his teasing words. “You're pretty cute when you're sick.”

Tim was so grateful his cheeks were already flushed with fever. “Shut uuuuup. Feed meeeeeee.”

Jason chuckled. “Man, your dad said you were needy when you're sick, but I never pictured this.”

“Fooooooooo—” Tim's fever-logged brain sluggishly caught up with Jason's words. “Jason...did you...my dad talk? Did you...” He fought for the right words. “Talk to my dad?”

“Uh huh.” Jason raised an eyebrow. “Was I just supposed to walk by him when he opened the door?”

“Door? What door?” Tim glanced at the window, which was cracked like it always was when he stayed over in case Jason needed to get in. Come to think of it, he thought as he watched swirls of wind-borne snow flying by, that might be part of the reason I got sick...

“Your front door,” Jason said, amusement lacing his words.

“My front door?”

“Yeah. You know, the one that people come up to if they have a package, or if they want to come in? Little button next to it that you press so the people inside know you're there?” Jason adopted a look of mock disappointment. “Do you not know what your door looks like, Timmy? Have you been coming in the window so much you forgot how doors work?”

“No?” He didn't think so, anyway. “But...you. Why door? Window...”

He pointed to the window for emphasis.

“It's rude to keep coming in through the window, Babybird,” Jason said, throwing about three different wrenches into the ungreased gears of Tim's soggy mind. “Besides, I'm in civvies tonight.” He gestured to his clothes, which, aside from the lack of tacky red helmet, looked exactly the same as his Red Hood gear. “And I kinda needed to introduce myself. You might be too out of it to realize, but your dad's been checking up on you pretty much every hour. I don't wanna give him another stroke when he comes up and sees a strange man sitting on his baby boy's bed.”

The implication that Jason was going to be here for a while, dealing with Tim, _tending_ to him, possibly, nearly did Tim in.

“You...you're staying?”

Jason smiled. “For as long as you want.”

Even in his current state Tim could sense those words held far too much weight for Jason to only be talking about tonight. He had no idea what was going on, and there was no way he could figure it out, or even summon up the right questions. He had just enough sense to realize his chances of spilling something incriminating about Jason and any possible feelings Tim might be harboring were incredibly high, and that it would probably be best to keep his mouth shut right now. But Tim did his best to file this whole conversation away. Hopefully, he'd remember it when he was well again, and have a better idea how to handle it.

“Thanks, Jay,” Tim said. He returned Jason's smile. “Who did you tell my dad you were?”

“Your friend,” Jason said simply, as if the answer was obvious.

“I'm...your friend? Really?”

“Of course. I told you months ago, Timbo.” Jason tilted his head. “Didn't you believe me?”

Tim blinked away the tears that began to form in his eyes. _Stupid sick brain. How am I supposed to keep these feelings secret when you still can't handle Jason saying he's your friend?_

“I...”

“Come on,” Jason said softly. “Eat your soup. We can tackle the hard questions when you're better.”

Tim wasn't about to protest. He opened his mouth dutifully and let Jason feed him as he leisurely told Tim stories about his day. At one point, out of the corner of his eye, he saw his dad poke his head into the room. Jack Drake took in the scene before him with surprise, but not nearly as much as Tim thought the situation warranted. A moment later, he met his father's eyes over Jason's shoulder. Fever-tinged thoughts raced through Tim's mind.

_What does this look like? Is it okay? Can Jason stay? Are you disappointed in me? Can you see how happy I am right now?_

Tim will never know the answers to these questions. He won't even remember thinking them. Instead, when he thinks back on this moment, the only thing he'll be able to recall is the small, knowing smile that tugged at his father's lips as he silently retreated from the room and closed the door behind him.

It will end up being one of the most cherished memories Tim has of his dad.

* * *

After Tim recovered from his illness, he and Jason became closer than ever. Rarely were the two seen apart, either in costume or out. Few were the nights when Red Hood didn't show up halfway through Robin's patrol. Even Batman had stopped commenting on it. Probably, Tim thought, because even though Robin patrolled alone more often than he partnered with Batman, he always began and ended his nights in the same place: the Cave. And once Red Hood showed up, he wasn't inclined to leave until he saw Tim safely home. Which meant Jason was spending a lot more time in the manor than anyone would have expected, even after they tentatively called a truce all those months ago. Slowly, _very_ slowly, Jason was figuring out how to fit his jagged edges back into the angled puzzle that was his former family.

And no one was happier about this than Tim.

“How do you _stand_ it here?” Jason asked one night after patrol. Tim was staying at the manor that night, since Jack and Dana were taking a weekend trip to the Catskills, one that Tim had begged off, saying he had too much homework. (It hurt so much less, these days, to be left behind. Mostly because Jack _always_ asked Tim to come with him on his infrequent overnight trips out of town. But also because Tim knew, no matter how empty his house might be, he had a second home within driving distance. One filled with life and love and warmth and, most important of all, Alfred's cooking.) “It's so creepy.”

Jason was, of course, talking about Wayne Manor itself. Which...well.

Obviously.

“You used to live here too.”

Jason scoffed, which was another change that Tim couldn't stop smiling about. Jason no longer reacted with violence or hostility when someone brought up his former life.

“Nope,” Jason said. “Never happened. He must have bought a whole new mansion after I died and moved it on top of the old one. No way was this place this fucking skeevy when I lived with B.”

Tim giggled. “You're literally the only person who would call a 70 million dollar mansion 'skeevy'.”

“Damn straight,” Jason said, a proud grin stretching his lips.

Tim laughed and fell back onto his bed. He closed his eyes and took a moment to soak up the warm atmosphere with the same familiar sense of mild awe that colored all his interactions with Jason these days.

_Me and Jason are sitting in my room at Bruce's laughing about the past. Six Months Ago Tim would never believe this if I told him..._

He rolled over on his side and propped his chin up on his hand. Jason was sitting in his desk chair, feet propped up on the desk with his hands laced behind his head.

Their eyes met, and suddenly the atmosphere changed. The air between them became charged with some unknowable meaning. Tim's heartbeat began to quicken, and his skin tingled with static electricity, like the air before a thunderstorm. For the longest time, neither of them said a word.

“Hey,” Jason said quietly. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Tim said in the same tone.

“Do you...ever think about your soulmate?”

Tim's cheeks began to burn. “Uh. That's...” He cleared his throat. “That's kind of a personal question, isn't it?”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “You saying we ain't close enough to ask?”

Tim shook his head, equally stunned and utterly unsurprised at how quickly the answer came to him. “No. I guess...I guess I just didn't expect it.” He took a breath. “Yeah. Yeah, I think about my soulmate, sometimes.”

“You ever wonder what they'll be like?”

_Hopefully, something like you..._ Tim's heart whispered.

“I try not to,” Tim answered, doing his best to keep his voice steady. “I...I don't want to build it up, you know? I don't want my soulmate to have to deal with my unrealistic expectations. I don't want them to ever doubt that they're enough on their own.”

Jason seemed surprised. Probably because he wasn't expecting such an honest answer, maybe. But two of the things Tim took seriously were soulmates and Jason. If Jason was asking something like this, it meant he really wanted to know what Tim thought. There was no way Tim was going to lie or turn it into a joke.

“What about you?” Tim asked. “Do you think about your soulmate?”

“Every fucking day,” Jason said, his eyes locked on Tim's with an intensity that had Tim's body _burning_.

“Oh...”

“What?”

“Nothing! Nothing!” Tim held up his hands, placating. “I guess I never really considered how you thought about soulmates, that's all...”

Tim bit his lip.

“Ask.”

“Wh-what?” Tim said.

Jason rolled his eyes. “You obviously wanna ask something. So just do it.”

Tim swallowed nervously. “Um. Have you had your dream yet?”

Jason said nothing, and Tim immediately regretted asking.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “That was way too personal, wasn't it? I didn't mean it. You don't need to answer. Um. How 'bout those Knights, huh? They're really, uh, doing...well? This year?”

Jason stared at him for the longest time. Then, he let out a snort. “The Knights suck, like they always do. And don't be like that. I was _gonna_ answer. I was just trying to figure out what to say.”

Tim blinked. “Oh.”

Jason tilted his head, studying Tim. “Let me ask you something first.”

“Okay...”

“You think there's a way to force someone to have their dream before they're 18?”

“Of course not. Everyone knows you can't force a soulmate dream.”

“'Everyone knows' you don't just wake up in your coffin after being blown up, either, and yet...” Jason spread his arms. “I don't give a fuck what 'everyone knows'. I wanna know what _you_ think.”

“ _Why_?”

“Because you're the smartest and most insanely clever person I know,” Jason said bluntly. “I've seen you make intuitive leaps that leave _Bruce_ shaking his head, but you know what? Most of the time, you're _right_. Your brain is _scary,_ Timmy. But it's also the most beautiful brain in the world. If anyone can think of a way, it's you.”

By the time Jason was finished Tim's face was as red as a tomato. He might actually die from how hard his heart was pounding. Nothing in his entire life had prepared him to hear the most amazing, flattering thing he'd ever heard coming from the lips of _Jason Todd_.

Hope, horrible, despicable hope began to once again flicker to life in his chest. Hope of the kind he hadn't allowed himself to feel since he was a kid, dreaming of bright blue eyes and a smile that lit the world...

“Why...?”

Jason shifted uncomfortably, and suddenly Tim understood where this was coming from.

_We don't really know how old Jason is. What if he had his dream while he was in that coffin? What if the Pit did something to mess with his dream? He must be so scared that he missed it, or that it will never come. If I was in his position, I want to do everything I could to make sure my dream happened..._

“I don't know,” Tim said. His jaw clenched with determination. “But if there's a way, I promise I'll find out.”


	4. Interlude

Sometimes Tim sees life as a series of snapshots.

It's the photographer in him, the artist who wants to capture a single moment forever warring with the detective who always has to look at the bigger picture. Still frame vs moving parts. More often than not, the detective wins. He has to. Tim's life, and the lives of others, depend on it. Depend on Tim.

But sometimes the detective isn't necessary. Sometimes, he takes the back seat. Usually, this only happens when Tim feels safe. When he's surrounded by the things that give him comfort and he allows his guard to relax.

Tonight, it happened in Wayne Manor.

It begins like this:

A quiet night on patrol. A late dinner with family. A table filled with laughter and conversation.

A table filled.

Tonight, there are no empty chairs at their table. Tonight, everyone is where they should be.

So, Tim lets the detective go, and watches the night pass around him the way a photographer does.

One shot at a time.

He sees Damian, pouting down at his food, his cheeks cherry red as Dick fondly ruffles his hair.

He sees Cass leaning over and whispering something in Barbra's ear; he sees Barbra's eyes gleaming with glee as her mouth open in wide, careless laughter.

He sees Bruce's calm serenity as he surveys his family.

He sees Dick and Bruce in animated discussion, Dick in emphatic mid-gesture, Bruce patiently waiting for him to finish making his point so he can pick it apart the way both of them are expecting.

He sees Damian stealing a piece of chicken from Dick's plate and slipping it to Titus.

He sees Alfred, fondly hovering in the background of each one of these scenes, but still very much a part of their family.

But these are just periphery shots. The outliers. Like always when Tim is behind the lens, the majority of his photography is focused, nearly to obsession, on Jason.

He sees Jason's smile, first of all. Always first. That smile is what first drew Tim to Jason, back in those early days of watching the new Robin. Dick's smile had always been filled with joy and laughter, but there was a slight bitterness to his successor. A cynical edge that Tim hadn't understood until he learned more about Jason's life. How could anyone be anything but happy to be Robin? To be _Batman's_ partner? He found himself watching those smiles night after night, waiting for the time when he could get a quick snap of a happy, carefree Jason. It rarely happened, but Tim never stopped searching.

Tonight, he found it once again.

Jason's eyes are bright and his smile is real, and Tim nearly sobs when he realizes it. But like always, even Jason's smile can only hold his interest for so long. It's the photographer in Tim. He grows bored with even the most beautiful shot if he focuses on one for too long. He wants more. He want everything. He wants to capture as much of the essence of his subject as he can.

So he watches.

He sees the mischievous glint in Jason's eyes as he times a quip perfectly, making Dick snort his milk out of his nose as he laughs.

He sees Jason and Damian, standing together in a dark corner. He sees the frustrated flush on Damian's cheeks. He sees the comforting hand Jason lays on his shoulder. He sees the way that hand isn't slapped away. He sees a rare moment of softness from two brothers who are anything but. He will never know what they spoke of, but the photographer is okay with that. He is a creature of sight, and he knows that some words are never meant for his ears.

He sees a gentle grip on Alfred's sleeve as Jason holds him back to express his gratitude. He sees by the look on the older man's face that he knows this is more than just a simple thanks for a meal. He sees the wet gleam in Alfred's eyes as he thanks Jason is return.

He sees Jason hugging Barbra tightly. He sees the way she grips him almost desperately in return.

He does not need to wonder what they're talking about.

He sees Cass and Jason bonding silently over their shared love of books once the table has been long cleared of food.

He sees Jason's soft expression as he plays with Damian's pets.

He sees Jason and Bruce quietly speaking together, heads bowed low like a pair of schoolboys plotting mischief; or, maybe, like a pair of old friends, sharing stories and secrets late into the night; or, perhaps, like a father and son who have finally found their way back to each other after a long dark night apart.

Tim sees these things from up close. He sees them from a perspective he never dreamed he'd ever get to experience.

He sees them from the best seat in the house.

He sees them as he sits next to Jason at the dinner table. He sees them as Jason pulls his chair closer. He sees them as he's tucked into Jason's side on the couch. He sees them as he waits for Jason to return to his side.

Tim's heart is full to bursting. Even in a family reformed, he still holds a special place in Jason's life. He is never more than a slightly raised voice away, and most of the time even closer than that. Rare are the moments when Jason can't reach out and touch him.

Rare are the moments when Jason lets those opportunities slip by.

A hand brushing against his elbow. A warm palm pressed against his back. A chin on his shoulder as he shows Jason something on his phone. The whisper-soft brush of lips against his ear as Jason quietly gushes about how surprisingly well the night is going; about how, for the first time in years, he feels like he's finally home.

The steady weight of his wet, gleaming eyes as he thanks Tim for being the one to open the door when he finally came knocking.

Tim has no idea what all of this means. But he hopes. Deep down inside, where the detective and the photographer and the crime fighter and the son and the student and the friend and all the myriad faces and masks coalesce into the person known as Tim Drake, he painfully, desperately, hopes.

 _I've loved you since I was 11,_ he thinks. _Please love me too. Be mine. Be mine. Be mine. Please, God, let him be mine..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added a chapter to the chapter count. I'm pretty sure about that count, now. One more chapter followed by an epilogue seems right. No ETA on either, though. I'll do my best to finish this as soon as I can.


	5. Chapter 5

When Tim was 12 years old, Janet Drake sat him down to talk about soulmates.

“I assume you're probably old enough now to be thinking about your soulmate,” is how she started. Tim, whose thoughts were filled with Batman and Robin and the desperate hope that maybe, just maybe, his parents would stick around for more than a few weeks this time, had not, actually, given his soulmate much thought. Still, he nodded anyway, because that was what Janet expected, and Tim always did his best to give his parents exactly what they wanted.

(Maybe if he was good enough, this time, they'd _stay_ )

“I thought as much,” Janet said tightly. Her hair was loose, today; free of the usual tight bun or elaborate french braids she usually wore for business and social functions, respectively. Instead of an expensive dress, or a blouse and pencil skirt crisply edged with deadly femininity, she wore a pair of comfortable slacks and one of Jack's button down shirts; her usual attire for lounging around the house. Despite her casual looks, Tim sat ramrod straight at her oddly strained tone of voice.

“Tell me, what have you been learning in school about soulmates?”

“Soulmates are the one person in the world we're destined to be with,” Tim answered automatically, long since used to reciting things he'd learned in school for one or both of his parents. “No one knows how they're chosen, or why they exist, but according to most studies 99.8 percent of the time a person's soulmate is the one person in the world who fits them perfectly...”

Tim trailed off at the sour twist of Janet's lips.

“Most studies...” she said disdainfully. “Have you read these studies, Timothy?”

“No...but I learned about them in school.”

Janet shook her head. “Typical. I had hoped a prestigious school like Brentwood Academy would have dispensed with the usual fairy tales for the masses and taught the truth, but apparently I was mistaken.”

She leaned closer to Tim, and for the first time in his life, he wanted to pull away from one of his parents when they voluntarily entered his personal space. “Soulmates,” she said, “are not what most of the world thinks they are. Those studies you mentioned are all decades old. New studies, performed by scientists and psychologists with more... _progressive_ attitudes, have uncovered several interesting facts that no one seems to want to speak of. Did you know, for instance, that nearly _half_ of all the people who meet their soulmates aren't happy with them?”

Tim frowned, which seemed to be the exact reaction Janet was looking for.

“That's right,” she said. “And did you know that there are millions of people who marry someone other than their soulmate?”

She paused for a response, so Tim gave her the only one he could. “I know some people are born without soulmates—”

“No, Timothy,” she said, cutting him off. “I mean people who have soulmates but _choose_ not to marry them.”

“I...I thought everybody married their soulmate.”

“Not at all.” She paused for a long moment. “I'm one of them.”

To Tim, nothing could have been more surprising. Jack and Janet had always seemed like the perfect match. They shared their passions and interests, and they even seemed to have the same ideas about raising children...

Tim would have been less floored if his mom had just told him he was adopted.

“But...if your soulmate isn't dad...who is it?”

Janet's lips tightened. “That's not important. What _is_ important is that you understand you aren't shackled to your soulmate. You don't need to tie your entire life to someone just because you have one silly little dream about them.”

She placed her hands on his tiny shoulders and looked him right in the eye.

“You are special, Timothy.” Tim's heart skipped a beat. “You have an amazing destiny in front of you. You could have the entire world at your feet if that's what you want. All you need to do is _work_ for it. Take your future into your own hands and cast aside anything, and any _one,_ who won't push you towards your goals.”

Tim had no idea how to respond. His mother had _never_ said anything like this to him before. In the face of her praise, he nearly forgot everything she'd said about soulmates. But he didn't. And one day he looked into her claims and found out that everything she'd said was true...more or less, anyway.

(The studies existed, but their methodology sucked. None of them took into account the _reasons_ why some soulmates didn't end up married, or even got divorced. It wasn't that people had bad soulmates. Sometimes, people made bad choices. They cheated, or they left, or they became violent. Sometimes, they refused to meet their soulmate at all. Sometimes they thought, much like Tim had, that having your soulmate dream was it; that, once you met your soulmate, you never needed to put in any work to keep the relationship going. And that just wasn't true. No one is the same person at 18 that they are at 30, or 50, or 70. People change. _Life_ changes. And unless people are willing to work with their soulmates to understand and accept those changes, they wake up one day and realize they were sleeping next to a stranger. A soulmate isn't a guarantee of a happily ever after, because unlike in stories, life doesn't end when the soulmates kiss. Any relationship needs work, and if one or both participants aren't willing to put in that work, it _won't_ work. Janet had drawn a conclusion and went in search of facts to fit that conclusion, instead of drawing a conclusion from the facts. Still, Tim never quite forgot that conversation. He wondered who her soulmate was, if not Jack Drake. Wondered who Jack's soulmate was. Wondered why both of his parents had married someone different...)

Janet had left soon after, having said everything she meant to. And then, during her and Jack's next trip, she was killed by the Obeah Man and Jack was left paralyzed and in a coma.

That was the last time Tim had ever spoken about soulmates to anyone until he and Steph had their disastrous kiss. And _that_ had been the last time he'd ever spoken about soulmates until Jason asked Tim if he ever thought about his. Until Jason asked him if it was possible force someone to have their dream early. Which was a ridiculous question. Everyone knew there was no way to have a soulmate dream early.

But everyone also knew people who died in warehouse explosions never came back to life.

Everyone knew people married their soulmates and lived happily ever after.

Everyone knew a mother's love was unconditional.

So Tim did what he always did when presented with impossibilities: he worked the problem. He worked it for months; sometimes here and there between other responsibilities; sometimes with a feverish obsession that bordered on mania.

Because, shady studies or not, Janet had been right about one thing. Soulmates aren't a guarantee of perfect, magical happiness. But she was also wrong, because Tim has _never_ been weaker for the people he allowed into his heart. Every connection he made, every person he let in, had strengthened and filled the many, many cracks left behind by a life growing up under the care of Jack and Janet Drake.

His friends were his strength. His family was his heart. And Jason...

Well.

He wanted Jason. He'd _always_ wanted Jason, even when he was so young that want could only be expressed in obsessive hero worship and long nights spent searching for that one perfect picture of _his_ Robin. He wanted Jason so badly his death carved a hole deep inside Tim he thought would never be filled. He wanted Jason even when they were trading blows meant to maim and words meant to scar. He wanted Jason in his life. He wanted Jason in his arms.

He wanted Jason in his _soul_.

And if Jason wasn't his soulmate?

Then he would do what his mother never could. He would find the strength to let go of his own selfish desires. He would be the best soulmate he could to whoever fate or God or the universe had chosen for him. He would find a way to force a soulmate dream and immediately offer Jason the chance to discover who _his_ soulmate was. And then he would use every resource as his disposal to make sure they could be together, if that's what they wanted.

Jason deserves the world. Even if that world has no place for Tim.

When Tim finally cracks the problem, it happens almost by accident.

Tim had been up for nearly 24 hours trying to help Batman synthesize a counter agent to yet another mutation of Ivy's mind control toxin, when he noticed something odd. It had always been assumed that Ivy controls the men she enthralls because her toxin attaches itself to the part of the brain that controls love and attraction. Tim, however, has been spending a _lot_ of time recently studying the most up to date medical knowledge on the brain, and he suddenly realizes that this theory is based on outdated information. The place her toxins affect is _close_ to the love and attraction centers, but it's ever so slightly off. It takes Tim a few minutes, once he's made this discovery, to realize why these brain scans of Ivy's victims look so familiar, but when it finally hits him, he has to fight to keep from throwing up.

These brain scans look almost _identical_ to the brain scans of people who consented to have their brainwaves monitored while having their soulmate dreams.

Tim's next few days are filled with little sleep. He feverishly checks and rechecks countless experiments and simulations. He prays near hourly that he's wrong. But in the end, Tim knows he isn't that lucky, and the results he pours over with bloodshot eyes confirm his worst fears.

Ivy's kiss doesn't just make her victims fall in love with her. It literally _overwrites_ their soulmate bonds. When her victims dream, they dream of her. And _every dream_ is a soulmate dream.. Except, it's so much worse than that, because her toxin induces a sort of waking dream, which gives her conscious, unfettered access to their very souls.

It's a kind of rape Tim never even considered, and it hits him harder for how unprepared he was to discover it. But even as most of Tim is reeling in disgust and horror, the rest of him continues to work the problem. They've cured Ivy's toxin before, and none of her victims have ever reported a disrupted soulbond afterwards. It's not hard proof, however, so Tim investigates. He tracks down Ivy's former victims, interviews the ones who are willing to talk. He finds out that a fair number of them are still with their soulmates. Their feelings haven't changed. Their bond is undamaged, as far as anyone can tell. A few agree to a brainscan. They come back completely normal. Tim's hands shake as he reviews the data.

If they can cure what Ivy does to a soulbond, can they also induce it?

The former suggests the possibility of the latter, and Tim dives headfirst into the research. It's almost too easy once he knows what to look for. He tweaks Ivy's toxin, ruthlessly tears out the active, malignant genes and leaves behind only what activates a dream.

In less than three weeks, it's done. Tim can synthesize a pill that will stimulate a soulmate dream. He even adds a small, over the counter sedative to help the user get to sleep faster.

When it's complete, Tim stares at the pill for a small eternity.

Then, he calls Jason.

* * *

Jason stared at Tim, awed beyond measure at the story the other boy had just told him. He knew Tim was smart. Knew it in an academic sense from his research back when he was still trying to, you know, kill him and shit. Knew it in a practical sense too once he started to spend time with him after having his dream. He'd seen firsthand the way Tim's beautiful mind could work, the way it picked out diamonds where other people only saw compost. (The way his soul picked _Jason..._ ) He'd meant what he said about Tim being the only person he could imagine figuring out how to make a soulmate dream come early. He just didn't know if he actually believed even _Tim_ could do it until it happened.

He glanced down at the innocuous pale green pill sitting on the scuffed and scratched table between them. They'd met up at their favorite coffee shop at Tim's insistence. It wasn't one of their scheduled meet ups (Jason tried his best not to think of them as “dates”, in case he slipped and said the word out loud and fucked up his careful plans to woo Tim, with varying degrees of success) but Jason wasn't about to turn down extra time with his soulmate.

“This is it?” Jason asked.

Tim nodded. “Yeah.”

“And...all that shit about Ivy...”

“Accurate, unfortunately.”

Jason slumped back into his booth. “Fuck.”

“Yep,” Tim said, popping the p.

Jason frowned as he thought. “Okay,” he said after a minute. “All right. So, aside from being totally fucked up, I guess that raises some moral implications about whether or not we should ever use this thing, right?”

Tim blinked. “Was that...a genuine question?”

“Yeah.” Jason shrugged. “What? My moral compass is pretty fucked up, Timbo. Kinda relying on you here to let me know what's up.”

Tim let out a small gasp. “Jason...” he breathed as his cheeks took on a slight pink flush.

Jason fought the urge to squirm. He'd been slipping a little...okay, a _lot,_ since the night Tim got sick and he sat by his bedside. Keeping his true feelings about his soulmate to himself had always felt wrong, like he was lying to Tim, but that night was probably the first time he realized that Tim might be falling for him, too, at least a little. The first time he really thought all his wooing was finally paying off, despite the rocky start Soul Tim had warned him about. With every small hint that Tim might feel the same, Jason's resolve not to tell Tim everything weakened a little bit more.

Even if he was about 80% sure dumping everything on Tim before he had his dream would send him running for the hills.

“Jason,” Tim said again. He touched his lips lightly, as if he was caressing the name as he spoke it. “I...”

“Too much?” Jason grimaced.

“No!” Tim's hands clenched reflexively. “No, I didn't mean it like that. I'm...really, really touched that you think of me like that. I mean, I don't know why? Because I'm so...”

He made an expansive gesture that basically indicated his entire self.

“But it's really nice to hear.” Tim smiled. Jason smiled back, because how the fuck could he not? “And I don't know how moral it is, but I think the worse crime would be keeping you from ever having your dream.”

Shit, Jason thought. Was there anything more romantic than someone saying they'd toss their morals aside for you? It was the one thing _no one_ had ever done for him. Not Roy, not Dickie, not _Bruce_...

That Tim would, that he just threw the declaration out there so casually like it was nothing at all even though Jason _knew_ how much Tim's morals meant to him, did all kinds of things to Jason's heart. If he hadn't already believed, that one sentiment alone would have been enough to convince him Tim really was his soulmate.

Unfortunately, he was going to have to clear up some misconceptions if he had any chance of convincing Tim to take the pill. And he was going to have to brush up against some things he really didn't want to admit yet in order to do it.

“Thanks, Tim, but the pill isn't for me.”

Tim blinked. “It's not?”

“Nah, I don't need it.”

Jason had been prepared for a wide variety of reactions, but Tim expression tightening and settling into something that looked like he was preparing himself to go up against a top tier rouge with no backup was not one of them.

“That's bullshit.”

“Huh?”

“It's bullshit! You deserve love, Jason! You deserve love more than anybody I know. You deserve a _soulmate_ more than anybody I know.”

“Uh, that's not—”

“No, I don't want to hear it. Whatever crap you've told yourself about how no one can ever love you because of your past or whatever is _bullshit_. You are lovable. And you _are_ loved. God, Jason, you are so loved. Anyone who knows you would be lucky to have you as their soulmate. And anyone who _doesn't_ know you, too! You'd be the best soulmate. And whoever shows up in your dream is going to recognize that right away or I'll...”

“Beat their ass?”

“Yes!”

Jason had no idea whether to be insulted at the way Tim thought he viewed himself, or to fall even more in love with Tim for the way he viewed _Jason_.

_I guess I should tell Timmy I've actually spent some time working on my self-esteem this past year._

_On the other hand, he's really cute when he's defending me. Maybe I can lower that 'running for the hills' percentage to 50%..._

“Tim. Thank you, really. It means a lot, hearing you say all that...but you're misunderstanding me, here.”

Tim frowned and tilted his head. “I am?”

“Yeah. That pill literally wouldn't do me any good. I've already had my dream.”

“Actually, that doesn't matter. The pill will still induce a soulmate dream even if you've already...” Tim froze as his brain caught up with his mouth. “What did you say?”

Jason did his best to hide his amusement. It wasn't often he got to see Tim completely thrown like this, not when it didn't involve a social situation he hadn't prepare for in advance, at least. “I already had my dream.”

Tim's face went through a complicated series of spasms that one could, if one were being charitable, attribute to a whole bunch of emotions being experienced in a very short amount of time.

“Oh.”

Jason nodded.

Tim shook his head. “I mean. Um. Wow. I had no idea. That's...that's great...” Tim said with all the sincerity of a man trying to convince someone he'd love an unnecessary root canal.

Jason's heart began to race. “Tim—”

“When did you have it?” Tim asked, cutting Jason off.

_Okay. I can take a hint._

“A while back.” Jason hesitated. He felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff with no grapple line. He could so easily fuck this up, but he didn't need to be trained by the world's greatest detective to see the heartbreak on Tim's face. That, more than anything, pushed him over the edge. “A little under a year ago.”

There. That was the only clue Tim needed to put together what Jason was trying to say. Once he realized Jason's dream coincided with Jason's Campaign of Suspicious Niceness (which is what Tim had called his wooing attempts, in the beginning) he should be able to extrapolate from there who had showed up in Jason's dream.

Understanding, however, did not dawn on Tim's face. Instead, he went blank the way he only did when he was trying to compartmentalize something he didn't want to feel.

_Shit, I'm fucking this all up. Maybe I should just tell—_

Tim abruptly stood up. “I need to—”

He was already leaving even before he finished speaking, and Jason snatched his wrist with lightning quickness even a Flash would have been impressed by. “Wait.”

“Jason, please.”

“Take the pill.”

Tim froze. “What did...” He swallowed visibly. “Oh. Right. You don't need it. Um, you can still have it, though. You might want to see your soulmate again, before you meet up with them. Uh, if you haven't already, that is. I mean. You don't have to tell me, actually, please don't right now but—”

Jason cut him off with a gentle squeeze of his wrist. “Timmy...”

Slowly, as carefully as if he was approaching a stray animal in the Alley, Jason slid out of his chair and stood in front Tim. He looked down into his soulmate's suspiciously glistening eyes, turned his wrist so his palm was facing up, and placed the pill in his hand.

“It's for you, babybird. It's always been for you.”

Tim's breath hitched. “J...Jason...?”

Fuck. Jason nearly shattered at the broken, desperate hope he could hear in Tim's voice. But he could also see just how close Tim was to fleeing. Something deep inside of Jason ( _something small and invisible but soso bright, no more green, no more rage, please Timmy, I've been waiting so long, takeittakeittakeittakeit let me finally see you)_ told him that if Tim fled now, it would be weeks before he resurfaced. Weeks filled with poison hope and cold logic warring with each other. Weeks of Jason hating himself for fucking up right when they were _almost fucking there_ after the best and most frustrating goddamn year of his life.

“Your birthday's this Friday, right?”

Tim blinked again. “Yeah...?”

Jason smiled, and closed Tim's fingers around the pill. “Take this the night before.”

“What are—”

“Just do it,” Jason whispered. “For me. Okay?”

Tim stared into his eyes for an eternity.

( _that was okay. Jason wasn't the only one who was watching. Just like Tim wasn't the only one who was looking)_

“Okay,” Tim said.

Jason gently, and oh so reverently, gave Tim's closed fist one last squeeze before letting go.

* * *

That night the pill sat in Tim's hand like a miniature black hole; impossibly heavy and impossible to escape from. But even though Tim couldn't look away, all he saw in front of him were Jason's eyes as he asked Tim to take the pill the night before his birthday. They had been _blazing_ , in a way that eyes normally never did, and for that one moment every romance novel cliché Tim had ever read about seeing someone's emotions in their gaze had come true. Tim had, for perhaps the first time, truly _seen_ Jason.

And what he saw took his breath away.

Open longing. Desperate need. Terrified hope.

Everything inside Tim's soul had found an answering echo inside Jason.

Tim's normal insecurities began banging on the walls of his heart, demanding attention. He was only seeing what he wanted to see. He was pushing his feelings onto Jason. There was no way his greatest wish, his most secret hope, could ever come true. Jason would be embarrassed—no, appalled if he knew what Tim was thinking...

It came down to faith, in the end, Tim decided. Faith in Jason. Faith in the friendship they'd built over the last year. Faith that, even if Jason didn't extract Tim's promise for the reason Tim hoped, he had done it truly thinking it was the best thing for Tim.

Tim needed to trust Jason.

Tim _did_ trust Jason.

And Jason had left him with two choices. Take the pill the night before his birthday and finally have the answer to the most important question Tim had never dared to ask. Or don't take the pill, and wait another 2 years to see who shows up in his dream.

Tim never had an abundance of patience.

But he was also not one to play by the rules. Jason had left him with two choices.

Like so many times in the past, however, Tim opted for option number three.

So on that night, two hours after parting ways with Jason at the coffee shop and three days before his birthday, Tim swallowed the pill dry, lay down in his bed, and drifted off to sleep...

* * *

Distantly, the detective in Tim cataloged every moment of the strange sensation of falling asleep and “waking up” inside a dream.

The rest of him stared at the long table in the family dining room of Wayne Manor, his heart pounding in his throat.

At first, just for a second, he thought this was a normal dream despite every cell in his body telling him otherwise. Because he knew this room. No, not just the room, he knew this whole _night,_ even if the room was much emptier now than it had been back then. It was indelibly etched onto his very soul.

This was the night when Jason came home.

And, apparently, his soul wasn't the only one who remembered.

At the head of the table, sitting in Bruce's traditional chair, was a man in worn, comfortable jeans and a plain white t-shirt. His hair was tousled and unkempt in a way Tim had never seen, but somehow _knew_ was how the other man looked every morning when he woke up. A soft, entirely too fond smile tugged at his full lips as bright blue eyes roamed hungrily over Tim's body like he was a Pikachu Illustrator card. His elbow rested on the table, propping up his chin and highlighting the way the sleeve of his shirt squeezed his tight, hard bicep.

Tim's breath hitched.

“I wanted it to be you,” he said, his eyes welling with tears. “I wanted it to be you so badly.”

Jason grinned, happy and carefree and so unguarded Tim nearly choked on his gasp. “Quoting Meg Ryan movies at me, babybird? Be still my beating heart.”

“Jason...” Tim's lips trembled. “Oh my God...”

As if he was determined to prove the universe had chosen correctly, Jason showed he knew exactly what Tim needed by standing up and opening his arms. Tim took off like a shot, running towards his soulmate, tears streaming down his cheeks. He jumped at Jason, and Jason caught him, pulling him close and wrapping his strong arms around Tim in a surprisingly gentle embrace.

_I'm home._

“You don't watch Meg Ryan movies,” Tim mumbled into Jason's shoulder, some interminable amount of time later.

Jason huffed out a laugh that Tim felt brush across his hair more than he heard. “I watch them all the time. I just don't let anyone else see me do it.”

“That's stupid.”

Jason laughed louder this time. “Yeah, it is. What can I say? Flesh Jason gets insecure about the weirdest shit.”

Tim snorted. “'Flesh Jason'?”

“It's what your soul called you.” Tim felt Jason shrug. “Flesh Tim. I always liked it. Though I gotta say...” Jason's hands slid down Tim's back before slipping under his shirt. “I think I like 'Tim's flesh' a lot more.”

Tim shuddered at the feeling of Jason's hands on his bare skin.

_Wait a second..._

“How does this feel so real?” Tim asked. He pulled back and glanced up at Jason. “And you. You look _exactly_ like you do in real life.”

“How Flesh Jason looks.”

“How Flesh...huh?”

Jason smiled fondly. “I'm Jason's soul, babybird.”

Warmth exploded in Tim's chest at the nickname, but he refused to get distracted. “And that's different from Jason?”

“Sort of?” Jason—Jason's soul?—said. “I don't really know how it works, but I'm like Jason stripped down to the bare essentials, without doubt and fear and insecurity and all that shit getting in the way.”

Tim thought about that for a moment, then felt his stomach twist into a knot. “So...when you...or Jason, whatever, had your dream...you met...”

“The full Timmy, yeah.”

“Oh God,” Tim groaned and buried his face in Jason's chest. “I am _so_ sorry _.”_

Jason laughed.

“Oh God, it was worse than I thought, isn't it?”

“Baby,” Jason's arms tightened around Tim. “Your soul was _perfect_. Just like you.”

Tim's cheeks began to burn. “You're lying.”

“Hey,” Jason said softly. He tried to lift Tim's face away from his chest, but Tim fought him. He had no idea what his soul was like, but he couldn't imagine the full, unvarnished Tim being anything other than embarrassing and horrible. “Come on, babybird. Show me those pretty blue eyes.”

“My eyes look exactly like Bruce's,” Tim said, deflecting.

“Trust me, they're not.”

“Spent a lot of time studying Bruce's eyes?”

“Oh yeah.”

Tim flinched in surprise, and without meaning to pulled back enough to see Jason's face. “What?”

“And yours too,” Jason said, smirking. “But yeah, when I was a kid I had it _bad_ for Daddy Bats.”

Tim choked. Or maybe it was more of a _gag_. “No...way.”

“Souls don't lie, Timmy. I spent like half my thirteenth birthday trying to hide how hard Bruce in a fitted turtleneck was making me. But you wanna know the worst part?”

_No._

“...yes.”

Jason looked Tim dead in the eye. “Alfred saw _everything_.”

“Oh. My. God.”

Jason nodded solemnly. “Most embarrassing birthday of my life.”

Tim had no idea how to feel. Part of him was dying with secondhand embarrassment. Another part was gleefully tucking this away to use against Jason at an unspecified later date. While yet another part was snarling with jealousy at _his_ soulmate lusting after _Bruce_ of all people.

Some of that last, at least, must have shown through on Tim's face, because Jason rolled his eyes. “Come on, don't pretend you never had a little puppy crush on Bruce when you first started.”

“No!” Tim said, horrified. “Oh my _God,_ did my _soul_ say I had a crush on _Bruce_?”

“No...” _Oh, thank God._ If it had, then he'd know the whole 'souls don't lie' thing was total BS. “But every Robin does, at some point. Except Damian. I hope.”

Tim shuddered. _Yeah, not even going there._

“And me.”

“Tim...”

“ _Jason_. When I first started out Bruce was violent and depressed and _wouldn't stop comparing me to you_. There was literally nothing sexy about him.”

Jason frowned thoughtfully. “Huh. Okay, yeah. That tracks, actually.”

_Oh thank God._

“Wait,” Tim said a moment later. “Are you saying that _Dick_ had a crush on Bruce too? And _told you_ about it?”

“Yeah. He's the one Al got to talk to me about it after my birthday. Which was all fucking kinds of awkward, because Dick was there too.”

“Oh, no.”

“Oh, yeah. He wanted to _help_.”

“Oh my God...”

“ Yep. Dickie still kinda resented me at the time and was pissed at Bruce for like sixteen different things, too. It was the most awkward 'please don't jerk off over our pseudo-dad figure/sex talk' anyone's ever gotten.”

“I would hope it would be the only one of those anyone's ever gotten.”

Jason's expression turned almost unbearably fond. “You are so precious. Weirdly naive as fuck, but precious.”

“Shut up.”

Tim smacked Jason's chest—his incredibly _hard_ chest, and damn if Tim wasn't eager to see if the body Jason's soul had was to scale back in the real world. Jason just laughed.

“So if it wasn't the Bat, who was your first crush?”

“I'm not telling you that!”

“Come on! I told you mine.”

“I didn't want to ever know that!”

“But I do. Come on, Timmy. Tell me.”

Tim flushed, but bit back his protest. If Jason's soul really wasn't lying to him, then he was letting Tim in on a lot of deeply personal stuff he was sure Jason would never have admitted if they weren't in a soulmate dream. It was...unsettling, to have complete and total access to someone's innermost secrets. Especially when that person was someone like Jason, who guarded his feelings like a tiger guarding its young. He was sharing so much with Tim...it was only fair to share some of his own secrets in return, wasn't it? Especially since Jason-in-the-real-world wouldn't have any idea what they talked about when Tim woke up.

(Tim would still tell him. He had to. He couldn't invade Jason's privacy and then keep what he learned a secret. Not if he wanted to have a real relationship with his soulmate. Not if he wanted to finally prove to himself that his mother wasn't right. Not about him. Not about _Jason._ )

Something occurred to Tim, then. A thing half heard during one of Jason's early attempts to get close to Tim, all those months ago. A single sentence that Tim had all but banished from his mind over the last few months. Gone, but never _quite_ forgotten, especially during the darkest hours of the night just before Tim slipped into slumber; in those moments when his hopes had free reign to roam.

“ _You've loved me since you were eleven...”_

Tim huffed out a laugh, shaking his head.

“You already know.”

Jason frowned. Only for a moment, though, because Jason was anything but slow, anything but unobservant. And neither was his soul.

“Timmy...” he said, his voice and expression filled with awe and bright, burning happiness. “Really?”

Tim swallowed heavily, and nodded. “Yeah. You've...kind of always been it, for me.”

Jason's eyes darkened. His hold on Tim tightened.

“If you've got anything against being kissed,” Jason said, his voice rough. “You better tell me now.”

Tim was anything but slow as well, but sometimes there are exceptions that prove the rule.

“Why would I have anything against being—”

Jason kissed him.

This wasn't Tim's first kiss, of course. Years ago, on one particularly bad day, he and Steph had tried it. It would have been so easy, Tim had thought at the time, if he and Steph could be soulmates. She was attractive and full of life, they enjoyed spending time together, and she _got_ the vigilante thing. Most importantly, she wasn't tied to the Bats or the legacy of Robin the way most of the capes Tim was close to were. He'd even told her, tentatively, about Jason. About the impact the boy had on his life. About his death. About Tim's feelings towards him. About how Tim still mourned. Steph in turn told him about her father and her secret fear that her soulmate would turn out to be just like him. Somehow, over the course of their conversation, they decided to see what this whole kissing thing was all about. That's how they framed it, anyway. An experiment. Just two impatient teenagers trying to grow up faster than they needed to. Secretly, though, Tim had hoped if they _were_ soulmates, sharing a kiss would somehow tell them. Surely, kissing your soulmate had to be something special. Something magical. And Tim had been right.

His kiss with Steph had been cold and brittle and uncomfortable. Tim had regretted it before it was even over.

His kiss with Jason, however...

It was the feeling of jumping off the roof of Wayne Tower, the deep breath before the leap, the freefall, the brief moment where there were no buildings tall enough for a grapple to hit, the absolute freedom of trusting that, if you just gave yourself over to the fall for a few seconds, you'll be safe in the end. It was waking up in the morning to the smell of bacon and scrambled eggs and knowing your dad would be down in the kitchen waiting for you, because that's where he was yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that. It was Alfred's cooking, and Bruce's approving smile, and Dick's brotherly affection, and Damian's grudging respect. It was seeing the boy you loved, now a man, reaching across a chasm of hate and violence, asking for forgiveness. It was warm coffee and shared laughter. It was the brush of cool fingers across a fevered brow. It was the house at the end of the long, winding road back home, its door open, its fires warm, its soul healed. It was hope and longing and need and love.

It was _everything_.

“That's so much better with a soulmate,” Tim said, breathlessly.

“I know, right?” Jason grinned. “Wanna do it again?”

Tim nodded rapidly, so Jason kissed him. It didn't take long for Jason to lick the seam of Tim's mouth, and Tim opened his lips eagerly. He'd read so many romance novels over the course of his life (okay, maybe they were mostly fanfiction, and, oh God, he really hoped Soul Tim didn't mention that he used to write really bad Robin RPF when he was a kid...) that everything Jason did was a check mark on the long list of things Tim had always wanted to do with his soulmate.

(With Jason.)

Opening his mouth in answer to Jason's questing tongue? Check.

Gripping the front of Jason's shirt as he deepened the kiss? Check.

Shoving his tongue into Jason's mouth as they both lost control of their passion? Check.

Jason slowly easing back, gentling their warring tongues until they were placing soft, panting kisses on each other's lips? Check.

Burying his fingers in Jason's luxurious hair? Check.

Climbing into Jason's lap as they both collapsed onto the nearest ~~bed~~ ~~couch~~ chair? Check.

Resting his head on Jason's shoulder after they both wordlessly decided not to re-stoke the embers of their desire into an inferno of lust? Check.

“Oh. My God.” Tim barely realized he'd spoken, he was too deliriously happy over making out with his soulmate. “Oh. My. God.”

Tim could feel Jason's chuckle deep within his soulmate's chest. “Happy Birthday, babybird.”

The smile that had begun to grow on Tim's face froze. “Um.”

“Hm?” Jason asked absently. He started carding his fingers through Tim's bangs, so Tim understandably needed a few minutes before he could form words again.

“It's...not my birthday,” he said, wincing.

 _I'm literally the worst soulmate ever. I lied to him before I even had my_ dream _. Who does that? He's going to be so mad at me, so disappointed, so—_

“I know.”

Tim blinked. Turned Jason's words over in his head. Slowly began to realize he hadn't imagined them. “You...know?”

“Uh huh.”

“And...you're not mad? You told me to take the pill on my birthday and I didn't, even though I told you I would.”

“Timmy,” Jason said, wry amusement curled around the name like a caress. “I _know_ you. No matter what I hoped, I didn't really think you'd actually keep that promise.”

Tim didn't know whether to be relieved his soulmate wasn't mad at him, or insulted that Jason apparently thought he was a liar.

(Tim very pointedly ignored all the times he'd bragged about lying to Batman)

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Flesh me realized almost as soon as you left that you'd either take the pill tonight or throw it away and wait to have your dream naturally.”

“Oh.” Tim frowned. Those _were_ the options he'd been deciding between. “How did you know that?”

“I told you, Timmy. I know you.”

“But. You don't. Not really. We've only really been talking to each other for a few months. You can't know me that well yet.”

Jason laughed.

“What?” Tim pushed off his chest so he could look Jason in the eye. “What's so funny?”

“You.” He grinned at the no doubt incredibly put out expression on Tim's face. “I have no idea how you can figure out Batman's secret identity based on Dickie doing one fucking flip, but you're completely oblivious to anything about your own goddamn social life.”

Tim wanted to argue, but...well. Where was the lie?

“ _I know you,_ _”_ Jason said again. “This whole last year the only thing I've cared about was getting closer to my soulmate. To you. I know that you're a fucking nerd who obsesses over the relationships of fictional characters almost as much as you obsess over solving cases and catching bad guys. I know you have Babs stream the season finales of your favorite shows to your HUD during patrol. I know you always stop by and feed the same stray cat that lives in the alley off 34th street.”

“He only eats Velveeta cheese. He'll starve otherwise.”

Jason grinned again. “I know you're not the only person to fall for that, either. Cat's got like six other people who all feed him 'the only thing he'll eat'. I also know he actually lives in one of the apartments next to that alley. His owner is a nice old lady named Louise who has no idea how her cat keeps gaining so much weight.”

“ _Lies_.”

“I know that you like chicken soup when your sick, and that you look beautiful even with your skin sweaty and clammy and your greasy hair stuck to your forehead,” Jason said softly. “I know that the happiest you've been since I've met you was here, on this night, when Bruce finally let me back in the front door. I know that you're the reason he finally decided to give me a chance. That you're the reason I have a family again. I know that no one else I've ever met has made me feel the way you do. I know that, if you weren't my soulmate, I think I'd probably live out the rest of my life always feeling like something was missing, because I've never felt more like the person I think I could have been if I'd never died than I do when I'm with you.”

Jason cupped Tim's cheek.

“I know that I love you, babybird.” He smiled. “And I know that you love me, too.”

“Jason...” Tears welled up in Tim's eyes. He tried to speak, but he couldn't get anything out beyond his soulmate's name.

So instead he threw himself into Jason's arms and sobbed quietly into his shoulder.

“Dammit,” Tim said wetly a few minutes later, after getting himself under control. “I never used to cry this much.”

“You saying finding out I love you makes you cry?”

Tim pulled back in horror, a thousand denials on his lips...until he saw Jason smirking.

“You _ass_!” Tim smacked him on the shoulder. Jason burst out laughing. Tim hit him again. “ _Jerk_ ass. You're not funny.”

“I'm awesome.”

“You're a menace.”

“Spider-Man is a menace.”

“Your _face_ is a Spider-Man.”

“Your face is _beautiful_.”

Tim choked. “Shut...shut up...”

Jason grinned. “God, I hope you never stop blushing when I say shit like that. It's fucking adorable.”

Tim groaned.

“Oh come on, don't pretend you don't love that I think you're the cutest thing ever.”

Tim said nothing.

“How about I tell you something embarrassing about me that you can use whenever Flesh Jason gets a little too into making you blush?”

“More embarrassing than crushing on Bruce?”

“Way more. You're the only one who didn't know about that. This one, nobody knows.”

Tim blinked and tilted his head. “You'd do that? Aren't you kind of sabotaging yourself?”

“I'd do anything for you, babybird.” Jason somehow said that with a straight face, much to Tim's amazement. “And to be honest, I kinda need someone to keep me on my toes. No one's ever done that better than you.”

“Oh.” Tim felt a smile tugging at his lips. “Okay, then. Tell me your secrets.”

Jason leaned in close. “You know all that nerdy shit we do together that I always act all embarrassed about?”

Tim nodded. “You nearly shot Roy when he walked in on us binging Doctor Who.”

“I didn't even have the safety off,” Jason said, rolling his eyes.

That was exactly what Jason had said when Tim yelled at him for almost shooting his friend the first time. Tim sighed, but let it go. “So what's your secret? That you're only doing that 'nerd' stuff for me?”

To be honest, Tim had always suspected Jason got at least _some_ enjoyment out of the stuff Tim dragged him into, even if it was just because he liked learning about things Tim liked. If he was about to be told that Jason hated it the whole time, Tim would be...

Well. Kind of heartbroken, actually.

“No,” Jason said. “I _love_ all that shit.”

Tim's breath caught. “Really?”

“Uh huh.” Jason nodded. “I never got a chance to do anything like that when I was a kid, you know? Kids on the streets don't really have the time or money to buy Pathfinder rule books or Pokemon cards. And once Bruce took me in...”

They shared a knowing look. Jason had never really fit as Robin the way Dick, and even Tim, had. Not that he wasn't _amazing_ in the suit, and Tim would fight to the death anyone who implied otherwise, but according to the stories Tim had heard over the years, there had always been a slight disconnect between Jason and the world around him. He didn't have a Teen Titans team to spend weekends with, and he'd never really connected with any of the kids at Gotham Academy the way Bruce had probably hoped he would. For all that Tim was a social disaster, he still had friends to spend his downtime with. Jason hadn't had much of a social life before his death, and since returning he'd worked very hard to maintain a very specific image. Maybe even harder than Tim had realized...

“I think I convinced myself I wasn't missing anything. And then when I died and came back, I only really focused on one thing until I had my soulmate dream. When Soul Timmy told me I had to learn about tabletop RPGs to woo you, I thought I was going to be bored out of my mind. But I really, really like it. All that shit I missed out on when I was a kid, I get to do it with you. And it's seriously the most fun I've ever had. Even I loved it.”

“'Even you'?”

Jason smiled, but this time something about it seemed almost sad. “Yeah. I'm a soul, remember?”

Tim's heart clenched. He thought he knew what Jason...Jason's soul, was trying to say. “You're not actually Jason.”

“Eh.” Jason waggled his hand. “I am, and I'm not. I'm Jason stripped down, like I said earlier.”

“But you're a separate person.”

“Sort of. I don't have to deal with a lot of the things that keep Jason from being his true self at all times. I'm Jason on Veratiserum, if you wanna get nerdy about it,” Jason said with a wink. “But the thing is, all that shit I don't have, all the doubt and insecurities and the need to hide certain parts of who I am...all of that makes up the person known as Jason Todd, too. I _am_ Jason. Everything I say and everything I think and everything I feel is what Jason feels and thinks. But I'm also Jason's soul. I know things that Jason doesn't. Mostly stuff about being a soul, but the difference is still there.”

“Oh my God. So, while Jason is living his life...are you just...stuck here?”

Jason shrugged. “Well, when you put it like that it sounds pretty shitty.”

“Jason...it sounds horrible.”

Tim wondered, for the first time in his life, about his own soul. Was there just some other person trapped inside him, watching him live out his life? Was Tim's soul even now watching through his eyes?

“It's not, really.”

Tim shot him a skeptical frown.

“It's not,” Jason insisted.

“But it's so cruel,” Tim said. “I never thought a soul had feelings or thoughts or...anything. How can I be happy with Jason knowing you, and my soul too, can't do anything but watch us? How is that fair?”

Maybe his mother had a point about soulmates. Maybe Tim was better off never knowing...

To Tim's surprise, all Jason did was smile fondly. “You know, I said kinda the same thing during my dream.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. And you know what your soul told me?” Tim shook his head. “You told me that I was perfect. You looked at me like I was the most amazing thing that had ever happened to you, just because I wanted to stay with you, with _your_ soul. You _were_ happy with the time we had. And you nearly cried when I told you that I'd kiss Flesh Tim extra just for your soul. And I _know_ you meant it, because souls can't lie. So you can believe me when I say that I'm okay with this, too. I don't care if Flesh Jason gets you in the end, because I had you first, and I know that your soul...that _you_ , love me. I can live on that forever, babybird.”

“Fuck,” Tim said wetly. “You're gonna make me cry again.”

Jason laughed. He cupped Tim's cheek and brushed his thumb across the skin under his eye. There were no actual tears, but Tim still felt a little better anyway.

“If I ever do make you cry, feel free to sock me one.”

A startled laugh bubbled up Tim's throat. Jason grinned as he pulled his hand away, obviously happy with the reaction.

“I'm not going to hit my soulmate.”

“Not even if his soul is telling you to?”

“How do I know his soul isn't just trying to get revenge on Jason for getting to spend the rest of his life with me?”

Tim had meant it as a joke, but the words came out solemn. Jason's grin faded, and as much as Time _hated_ being the cause, he was glad Jason's soul seemed to be taking him seriously, for all that he intended to hide his concerns.

“Souls aren't like that,” Jason said eventually. “At least, I'm not. And your soul wasn't.”

Tim opened his mouth, but Jason cut him off.

“And if you're really worried about your soul,” he said, shooting Tim a knowing glance. “I don't think he's like me.”

“What does that mean?”

Jason sighed. “It means I'm not like most souls. At least, I don't think so. I think most souls spend their time less...aware, than I do.”

“How do you know that?” Tim asked. “Actually, how do you know any of this? I don't think Jason knows a whole lot about souls or soulmates.”

“He doesn't,” Jason said. “But...” He took a deep breath, visibly reluctant to continue the discussion, but just as obviously willing to go through with it because it might help set _Tim's_ fears to rest. “I know it because that's the way I was before the Pit.”

Tim jerked in surprise. How could he have forgotten about the Pit?

“Back then, I was more...I dunno, dormant, I guess. But after, when it tore me apart and put me back together, it added a few things that were never a part of Jason's soul. Things like rage and bitterness and hatred for all the things we used to love. And whenever Jason started feeling those things, I became more...I guess 'real'? Like I was just someone else along for the ride.”

Tim grabbed Jason's hand and held it tight. “I'm so sorry.”

“It's okay.” He smiled. “Really, it is. Because as much as that sucked, whenever Jason was feeling like himself, I..settled, I guess. I was at peace. And ever since Jason met your soul? He's felt more like his old self than he has in _years_. Finding you didn't just change Jason's life, it changed mine too. Me and Jason are closer than we've been in a long time. It's not the way it should be, the way your soul probably is. The Pit isn't something that Jason is ever going to fully heal from. There will be times when all I can do is watch helplessly as Jason fights those dark places inside him he was never supposed to have. But that's okay. Do you wanna know why?”

“Why?”

Jason smiled. “Because I know he won't be fighting alone. He'll have you. And I'll get to see every second of you loving on my boy.”

“And you,” Tim said, answering Jason's expression with a shaky smile of his own. “If Jason can put some extra in for my soul, then I can too.”

“See?” Jason said. “You're fucking perfect.”

Tim was so very far from perfect, but he wasn't about to argue with Jason soul. Who knew how much time they would have together, and Tim didn't want to sour what was left with bitterness and insecurities.

Still, there was one thing he had to know.

“What happens when I wake up? Will this place go away? Or will you be stuck here?”

“I could think of way worse places to spend the rest of my life,” Jason said. “But honestly, I don't know. I've never been on this end of a soulmate dream before. I assume things will go back to the way they were. I'll be...somewhere, and Jason will get the Timmy.”

“That isn't fair.”

Jason shrugged. “Life isn't fair. But I promise it's okay. I'll still get to see you through Jason's eyes, and touch you through Jason's hands...”

“And kiss me with Jason's lips?”

Tim had no idea where his boldness came from, but whatever secondhand embarrassment he might feel later on was definitely worth seeing the lust and longing spring to life in Jason's eyes.

“Yeah,” Jason said roughly. “Definitely that.”

Tim tightened his legs around Jason's hips and settled more firmly on his lap. Then, he leaned in close. “Why wait?”

He'd meant to follow up with a smooth kiss, but Jason was already one step ahead. He surged up as Tim pressed down, meeting him in the middle in a fiery explosion of lips and teeth and tongues. They fought a short battle for dominance before Tim eagerly gave in, every secret wish about being _taken_ and _possessed_ being fulfilled by an equally eager Jason. On instinct, he _ground_ his hips into Jason's lap, groaning into his soulmate's mouth when an answering hardness met his own.

Jason let out a groan of his own. “Fuuuuuck.” He gripped Tim's hips tightly, trying to stop him, but Tim was _not_ having any of _that_. He deepened the kiss, sucking Jason's tongue into his throat and using the distraction to resume his rutting. And it _was_ rutting; a pure, animal lust Tim couldn't have controlled even if he wanted to. He rode, in more ways than one, on pure emotion now, much like how he imagined a soul might. Had his soul done this to Jason? He didn't know how it could have resisted. How did Jason react? Did he push Tim away? Did he, maybe, pull Tim closer? Did they rut together like dogs in heat? Did Tim have his first orgasm with another person through his _soul_ in a _dream_?

 _I hope we did. I hope my soul got to see Jason the way I'm seeing Jason's soul right now. I hope he has the same memory I'm giving Jason's soul. I hope Jason will_ never _forget us._

Tim was well on his way to cumming in his pants (was that even possible in a dream?) when Jason finally summoned up the willpower to push Tim back.

“Jesus _fuck_ , Tim,” Jason gasped, staring at Tim with blown eyes and flushed cheeks.

“Don't stop,” Tim whined. “I was almost there.”

“Shit.” Jason swallowed visibly. “Fuck, Tim...”

“Maybe later,” Tim said, though he was suddenly scared Jason might take him up on that the moment the words were out of his mouth.

As turned on and needy as Tim was, he still had enough of his wits to realize he was in no way ready to take that step.

Thankfully, Jason didn't do anything but groan and push Tim gently back even more.

“Jesus,” he said. “You have the fucking _worst_ timing, babybird.”

“What do you mean?”

Even if they weren't going to fuck, they could still grind some more, right?

“Look around.”

Even though there was nothing Tim wanted to look at more than Jason, he still did as his soulmate asked.

He felt he'd been dunked in a pool of ice water as he took in their surroundings.

Their slowly _fading_ surroundings.

“Time to wake up,” Jason said wryly, a bittersweet little smile pulling at his lips.

“No. What? No, that's...”

This wasn't right. He hadn't had enough time. Surely even Tim would be able to sleep at least a _little_ longer on the night of his damn soulmate dream. That stupid sedative should have knocked him out for at _least_ five hours. It couldn't have been that long already, could it?

“Jason...”

“Had to end sometime,” Jason said. The dining room had completely gone, now, as if Tim noticing the fading had sped it up.

“This wasn't enough,” Tim said.

“Yes, it was.”

“No! We should have had more time.”

“I had the _best_ time,” Jason said. He tilted his head. “Didn't you?”

Tim's breath caught. “Yes,” he answered, because what else could he do? He wasn't even surprised to realize he'd meant it. “It was...” _Be strong for him. Don't let his last memory of you be you crying over something you can't change._ “It was perfect. 10/10, best soulmate dream ever. Would dream again.”

Jason laughed. “That's my babybird.”

Tim could feel Jason's thighs slowly disappearing under him.

“I'll miss you,” Tim said, unable to help himself.

“No, you won't,” Jason said. When Tim began to protest, he was cut off. “Not for long. You're gonna get to see Jason a lot sooner than you think. And after that, you never have to be apart again if you don't want to.”

“You can'tknow that,” Tim said, voicing his secret fear. What if Jason is nothing like his soul? What if they're one of the statistically significant percentage of soulmate couples that don't make it? What if...

Jason brushes Tim's hair away from his forehead with a nearly transparent hand.

“Sure I can,” he said, still smiling that same little smile. “I used to be Robin, remember? And being Robin gives me magic. Everything will be perfect, Timmy. I promise.”

And with that, Jason winks and fades away completely.

The next moment, Tim opens his eyes in his bedroom.

_Jason..._

“Good dream?”

“Jason!” Tim scrambled out from beneath his comforter. Sure enough, there was Jason, in the flesh, sitting next to Tim's bed in the same chair he'd occupied during Tim's flu. “You're...”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “I'm what?”

Tim was probably the only person in the world who could have spotted the hesitation in his question. Who saw through the carefully constructed facade of casual confidence and saw the absolutely terrified man beneath.

 _He thinks I'm going to reject him,_ Tim realized. _He knows I took the pill, just like...just like his soul said. He knows I just had my dream and he'd still bracing for me to reject him..._

“You're...so dumb,” Tim said, shaking his head in sheer awe.

“I...am?”

“Yep.” Tim's lips twitched. “The dumbest. Dumb af. _Super_ dumb.”

“O...kay...”

Tim grinned at the look on Jason's face. He crawled to the edge of the bed and got up on his knees. “Come here, idiot,” he said, holding out his arms. “I want to hug my soulmate.”

Jason froze. “You... _really_?”

“Yes!” Tim's face softened at the the utterly gobsmacked expression Jason was wearing. “Jason,” he said softly. “I've loved you since I was eleven. I took that stupid pill early because I couldn't wait another two days to find out if you were mine. If you don't get over here right now and kiss me I'm gonna—”

Jason let out a noise that Tim had never heard from human vocal chords before he threw himself out of the chair and pulled Tim into the tightest hug he'd ever had. Tim's eyes closed immediately, a noise not to dissimilar to the one Jason made passing his lips as he wrapped his arms around Jason's neck.

And just like that, _everything_ that had ever been wrong in Tim's world was suddenly _right_.

“I didn't think—I never—I couldn't,” Jason said.

“I know—I wasn't—I thought,” Tim replied.

They both let out identical, shaky laughs. Neither one of them could get out a complete thought, but neither one had any trouble knowing what the other was trying to say. Against all Tim's expectations, and desires if he was being honest, all he could think about as he held and was held by his soulmate for the very first time in the world of the living was his mother. He felt...sorry for her. He knew, if she was still alive, if he saw her right now, all he would be able to see would be the jagged edges where her soulmate should be. The same jagged edges that were even now being smoothed away from Tim by _finally_ being his soulmate's arms.

“Did you know?” Jason asked quietly, a small eternity later. “Before you took the pill, did you know it was me?”

“No,” Tim said. “But I hoped. God, Jason, I hoped so much.”

“Yeah?”

There was an edge in Jason's voice, one that set Tim's heart racing even as his eyes began to narrow in suspicion. “Yes...”

Jason pulled back and, yeah, his lips were pulled into a tiny smirk. “Fuckin' _nailed_ it.”

_Okay, maybe the confidence wasn't completely fake._

“Nailed?” Tim blinked. “Nailed _what_?”

“Wooing the Timmy,” Jason said, like that somehow explained anything.

“ _What_?”

“Dude, let me have my moment. Getting you to fall for me was _hard_ , okay? Let me _bask_.”

“Bask—Jason! What are you talking about?”

“I've been trying to get you to fall in love with me all year. Do you have any idea how stressful that was? I thought I was blowing it every time you threw coffee in my face or hung up on me. Even when we got closer I thought it was some sort of weird pity thing. Or like, Stockholm Syndrome or something.”

“Stockholm—”

“I didn't think there was any way you'd think of me like that until you had your dream. I've had a _lot_ of sleepless nights about this shit, so just...yeah. Lemme bask. Just for a minute.”

“Jason...” Tim paused as things began to slot into place. “Oh my God, is _that_ what all that was about? The...the coffee and the phone calls and taking me out for pizza after patrol?”

“Yep.”

Tim blinked. Well. It wasn't like he hadn't _suspected_ , a few times, maybe. Like he hadn't _hoped_. But still, to see Jason looking so smug and happy about it...

“Jason,” Tim said again, shaking his head. “What part of 'I've loved you since I was eleven' didn't you understand?”

“What do you mean?”

“You never had to woo me!” Tim said.

Jason's smug smirk faltered. “What, now?”

“I was already _woo'd_! I've been gone on you since I was a kid.”

“No. No way. You _totally_ needed wooing.”

“I really didn't.”

“Yes you did! You thought I was poisoning you when I got you coffee that first time!”

“Because you were acting weird and suspicious!”

“I was being _romantic._ ”

“You were being creepy! I thought you were stalking me!” Tim blinked. “And you _were_!”

“Just a little. But it was part of the process.”

“Of wooing me?”

“Yes! That shit's _hard_ Timmy. Like, Super Mario Lost Levels, World C-3 hard.”

“No it isn't! And you are literally the only person who wouldn't use a Dark Souls comparison.”

“What the fuck is Dark Souls?”

“Oh my God,” Tim said. “My soulmate is a heathen.”

“Your soulmate is a _master of seduction_.”

“My soulmate is a master of _wasting time_. Jason, I've literally always hoped you were my soulmate. All you needed to do was _tell me_ you saw me in your dream and I would have—”

“Not believed me?”

“I...” Now it was Tim's turn to falter. “Okay, maybe at first. But I would have really, _really_ wanted to!”

“Ha! Fucking told you. I _needed_ to woo your ass.” Tim opened his mouth to argue again—even though he was, secretly, starting to admit that Jason might have a point, here—but Jason cut him off. “And if you really fell in love with me when we were kids, then I just made you fall in love with me again. That's _twice,_ babybird. I'm the best at reeling in soulmates.”

“Talking about me like I'm a fish, really great way to make me feel the love,” Tim muttered. “You're the worst soulmate.”

“Because your big, fishy mouth gobbled up my bait like you were starving for it?”

“Because I asked for a kiss like five minutes ago and all you've done is—”

Jason swooped down and kissed Tim.

_How do these keep getting better?_

For once in his life, Tim decided not to analyze things. He just sat back and enjoyed the kiss.

Then he laid back and enjoyed everything else that followed.

* * *

(Deep inside the two bodies pressed together, two souls watched on.)

* * *

Sated, sweaty, and sore in wonderful new ways, Tim threw his arm around Jason and lay his head on his soulmates heaving chest.

“Wow...”

“You're telling me,” Jason panted. “Damn.”

“So good.”

“ _So_ good.” Jason flopped his nearly boneless arm around Tim's shoulders. “That _mouth_. Fuck, Timmy. Chef's kiss.”

“Oh? Not too big and fishy for you?”

“If fish could do what you did, I'd hang the hood up and take up fishing _tomorrow_.”

_Ew. Oh God, why is that sweet? Why am I blushing? Why am I flattered by that?_

“Uh, yeah.” Tim cleared his throat. “Same to you and your, you know.” He gestured towards Jason's lap. “If that was a fish, I'd. Um.”

_There is no good way to finish that sentence._

“Shit,” Jason said. “We're actually really good together, aren't we?”

“The best,” Tim said, smiling into Jason's chest, infinitely glad nothing more was said about fish.

“Hey, Tim?” Jason said a few minutes later.

“Hm?”

“Can I tell you something?”

“...is it about fish?”

“It's about you.”

Tim frowned. That wasn't exactly a no...but he figured he could maybe give his soulmate (and he hoped his heart never stopped doing that giddy little flip when he thought that) the benefit of the doubt. “What about me?”

“I'm really happy you're my soulmate.”

“Oh. Well.” Cue blushing, heart palpitations, clear crops, flourishing skin; the works. He buries his face in Jason's chest and holds him tightly.

“Me too.”

Jason dropped a kiss on top of his head. “Can I ask you something?” he asked, a few more minutes later.

“...is _this_ about fish?”

“What the fuck is wrong with fish?”

“Is that your question?”

Jason let out a noise that sounded almost _exactly_ like Tim's dying cat moan. Tim smiled. Jason was getting really good at that.

“ _No_. My question is...” He hesitated, then cleared his throat. “You think we're gonna make it?”

“Absolutely.”

“Really?”

Jason's question was soft. Vulnerable. _Open_.

“We're going to make it,” Tim said. “You know why?”

“Why?”

Because Tim has been in love with Jason since he was eleven. Because Jason died and came back angry and hateful, held hostage by a primordial force, directed in a crusade against the family who loved him by some of the most evil and manipulative people to ever exist, and it still only took one look at Tim's soul for him to want to change. Because Jason is family, and as a very wise person once said, family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten. Because sometimes soulmates don't last, and Tim knows that, which means he's going to spend the rest of his life _working_ to make sure he and Jason do. Because Tim made a promise to Jason, to his _soul,_ and there was nothing in this world, or any other, that could make him break it.

Because, even though he didn't have to, Jason still wooed the _fuck_ out of him.

Tim could have answered with any of these reasons; with _all_ of them. But in the end, he chose not to. Jason already knew those things. Instead, Tim decided to tell Jason the one thing his conscious mind had forgotten. The one thing he needed to remember. The last piece of wisdom from a child, a legacy passed on to his older self over the fathomless gulf of life and death. The last words of a soul that was finally healed.

“Because we're Robin,” Tim said, smiling. “And being Robin gives us _magic_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, this took way longer than I thought it would, so you guys have my apologies for that. I know you were all looking forward to seeing Tim's dream, so I hope it lived up to your expectations. Thankfully, the last part will be a shortish epilogue, so it shouldn't take nearly as long (yeah, I prolly fucking jinxed the whole thing, now).


End file.
